Robin the Green Man
by tamarenne
Summary: A revised ending for Series 3. Marian does not die and thus follow adventures for an alternative S3 storyline.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE: DESECRATION

"Now can you tell me why did we stay here in Acre?" Will's eyes were still glued to the spot where his friends, his brothers, had been standing. He had done as Djaq had asked him. Robin and his men were returning to England to continue the fight without them. Now was the time for answers.

Djaq ran into another room and returned holding a dusty scroll. She threw on her scarf and pulled Will with her out the door. "Hurry, there is no time to waste!"

"What are you talking about?" Will stubbornly pulled them both to a stop. "Now please tell me what you meant when you said we HAD to stay here?" The stunned look on Robin's face , when he and Djaq had told them all they intended to stay, that lost uncomprehending air, haunted him. That, coming hard upon the heels on Marian's fate, made it all the worse. But Djaq had promised him an explanation as soon as Robin and the men had departed. Well, they were gone now, and Will needed answers.

But Djaq wasn't giving any. Instead, she breathlessly held out the ancient scroll. "Do you know what this is? She continued without waiting for an answer: "This is the Kitab al-Tasrif".

Will looked at her without comprehension. "Alright so we're to read stories now?" He looked doubtfully at his betrothed.

"Look, I did what you asked. We deserted Robin and our mates, but I have got to know why NOW. You told me you had a reason, please tell me that Kitabie thing is going to help Robin". He looked at the scroll and then searched Djaq's eyes questioningly.

"That is exactly what it will do, we have no time for questions, Will come!"

Will followed her in a daze as they made their way through the dusty streets of Acre. Finally they entered a non-descript large building. "What is this place?" Will, asked, struggling hard to keep his tone non-accusatory.

"This is a Bimaristan, Will hurry!" For a small girl, Djaq was strong as an ox. She pulled him through a side entrance and down an empty corridor. At last she seemed to find the door she was looking for. She flew through the door and Will hurried behind her. He was not prepared for what he saw.

In the bare whitewashed room stood three Saracen men washing their hands. A brazier was burning next to them along with various instruments which Will did not recognize. Standing on its edge against one of the walls a long cedar coffin, obviously freshly dug up. But Will barely noticed them, or anything else. Instead, all of his attention was instantly focused on an object lying a platform in the middle of the room. There, covered with white linen, was the body of Lady Marian of Knighton! Will looked at Djaq in shock and reflexively grabbed at his axe, finding only air. "Djaq EXPLAIN!"

Djaq ignored him and opened the scroll and handed it to the men gathered around Marian's lifeless corpse. She pointed to a spot on the old scroll and the men nodded and began speaking excitedly in Arabic. The eldest old gentleman turned to a reedy young Saracen lad who stood nearby and said something in Arabic. The lad nodded once and quickly placed one of the instruments into the fire of the brazier, watching closely as the end began to glow red.

Will could hardly believe his eyes, and turned to Djaq, trying hard to control his building anger. "Djaq tell me now what is happening. Because if you think I will stand here and let you or anyone desecrate Marian's body, think again".

Djaq shrugged her shoulders and turned toward Will. "Will look at Marian, do you see nothing unusual?"

"EVERYTHING I see is unusual, Djaq. You cannot be thinking of burning poor Marian because I can't allow it." His face flush red with anger he stepped next to Marian's body. In a flash, he grabbed the instrument burning in the brazier and brandished it: "First man that touches Marian's body gets a face full of this, and Djaq what in the name of of god is going on TELL ME NOW!"

The three men backed away warily and one of them said something to Djaq.

Slowly, gently, she put her hand on Will's arm. "Will look at her WOUND. What do you see?"

Doubtfully, keeping an eye on the men in the room, he looked down and peered at Marian's body. She looked as if she were sleeping. Her upper body was bare, except for a silk scarf covering her chest. Below that was a red gash in her side, glistening red against her pale skin.

"Will look closely, the gash in her side, it is still BLEEDING. Marian is NOT dead".

Will stared at Djaq and then at the wound in Marians side, and back again desperately.

"Will, have faith, faith in your god, faith in ME". She tapped his hand and he released the unknown instrument, still burning, into her hands. She handed it to one of the men, an old man, dressed in white silk, and together the three men began their work. Will grimaced as he watched them apply the hot poker to Marian's wound. He noted grimly Marian did not flinch, nor did respond in any way. Surely this was madness! The rest was a blur and Djaq took him aside and pointed at the old man who was busily cauterizing Marian's wound. "Will, that man is a descendant of Abu al-Qasim Khalaf ibn al-Abbas Al-Zahrawi. The father of surgery in the Muslim world. His library was lost in the wars, but with my fathers scroll, he can perhaps return Marian to the living!"

To Will, this looked like something else entirely. The local priests had shown the country peasantry paintings and tapestries picturing satanic worship many times in Locksley, and this bore a very uncomfortable resemblance to those pictures he had seen as a lad. Will nervously scrutinized Djaq's face. The face of the woman he loved. He could not believe her capable of evil. But he had to know for sure. He gulped and caught Djaq's arm, turning her face toward his own, and leveled his gaze straight at her. "Djaq, tell me this isn't devil worship?" He shifted his gaze toward Marian's body on the platform, "tell me this is not some kind of sacrifice?"

To his complete surprise, for he was half expecting a slap, Djaq laughed good naturedly. "Will, this is the art of medicine. It is healing, not magic."

Will heaved a sigh of relief, not entirely understanding, but sure enough of Djaq. He loved this woman, and she was the smartest person he had ever met. Smarter than Robin, smarter than the parish Priest. If she was right, then praise be to god! Or Allah. But if she was wrong, if she was desecrating the body of Robin Hood's wife. God help them all. "Djaq, if you thought she was alive, why didn't you say anything! Do you know what Robin is suffering right now? He is onboard ship and probably on his way home, and he thinks his wife is dead."

"That is precisely why I said nothing. I saw when we placed her in the coffin, that her wound still looked fresh. I could not be sure and I could not put Robin through the pain of losing Marian for a third time. I had her brought here as soon as we left the grave. Allah moves in ways we cannot comprehend Will. But I had to try. Robin must get back to Nottingham before Guy can lay a trap for him. He must not tarry here. And if this works, we will go back with Marian to England. If not, we will return alone and Robin will never be the wiser. He must not suffer any more than he suffers already. He must be able to lead".

Will exhaled. "So this is why you wanted us to let Robin believe we were staying in Acre". It wasn't a question, but was it insanity? He looked at Djaq's face. The boyish, brown, wonderful face of the woman he loved. He saw now the exhaustion of her features from her exertions of the last few hours. All the reasons he loved her washed through him as he thought of her goodness, and her loyalty. He thought painfully of the broken image of Robin, as he and Djaq had lied to him. The amazement when Robin had questioned nothing, had accepted without complaint that two of his most loyal comrades would desert him when he needed them most.

He looked at Marian, lying on a wooden table, still lifeless, and for the first time in a long time, he prayed.

...

The men glumly readied themselves for the long and arduous journey home, back to England. Little John and Alan, in particular, dreaded another sea voyage. They were truly men of the forest, and their first sea voyage convinced them that never again would they leave England, and surely not by sea. But at this moment, their concern was directed elsewhere. Robin. He seemed almost his old self. Too much so. Only his red-rimmed eyes betrayed the extent of his loss.

Much looked much more miserable, but his misery was for Robin clearly and not himself. When they had boarded the ship, the crew had already been told of the sacrifice of Robin Hood's wife. They whispered about it but did not speak of it in the presence of Robin or his men. The ships captain had come forward to greet them, with a charter from the King in hand, and given his condolences. Robin had replied with a hard set of his jaw and even harder eyes, and said exactly nothing.

Robin for his part, did not think of her. He barked his orders and tried to maintain himself. Now was not the time. The order of business was to...what? He forced himself to think and remember the plan. He fingered the ring which Much had retrieved for him from Marian's body... and with that thought he once again closed his mind and pushed every thought he had ever had of her from it. His mind was now a fortress and thoughts of HER were a siege engine battling from without to topple him. Each time he managed to clear his mind, another thought came unbidden set off by almost anything, thoughts of her, and all that she had been, and still was, to him... Again he stopped and blinking tears from his eyes he looked about him ferociously. He waited until his men had selected a corner of the ship and arranged their bedding, and then he put his bedding down in the furthest corner of the ship. He pretended not to notice the hurt look in Much's eyes.

"Robin?" A voice pulled Robin from his contemplation. He looked up in surprise. It was Much, who had brought him some dried venison and fresh figs and tried very hard to look nonchalant. The shadows on the deck had lengthened sharply. Robin was vexed to realize he must have been deep in thought for hours, alone in his netherworld.

"No thanks Much, I'll eat later. After we set sail".

"But, you must eat something..." Much protested hopefully and received no reply. He reluctantly took the food away, muttering to himself. For the first time in his life, Much could think of nothing to say.

Robin watched his men settle in, and the crew busy with their chores. The sun would soon be setting soon, and give them the stars to guide them home. There was little to do now but wait. He fished into his pocket and patted the folded parchment that the king had given him, with instructions to meet his courier at Southwark Bridge, outside London. The feel of the folded parchment somehow relaxed him, and Robin lay his head on his broadcloth bedding and tried to keep his thoughts far from the present.

Little John and Alan played dice with the crew. They were all suffering now and men did not air their suffering in public. There was no place to hide and consequently no place to mourn either. Still, from time to time as the minutes passed, each of Robin's men found himself thinking of Marian, and the look on her face as she met her maker in the arms of Robin. The loss was too much to bear. Little John wiped his eyes and cursed a lot more than usual, and Alan tried vainly to make jokes but found himself unable to deliver the punch line. Much looked the worst of the lot. He helped the cook and did his best to keep it together, for the sake of Robin and the others.

"Try this Robin, it's good for what Ale's ya". This time it was Little John's voice that broke Robin's reflection, and he looked up to see his mates sitting in a semi-circle around him. He took a gourd of wine proffered him, and sipped deeply. When they had finished the gourd, another was produced. They were an odd party of men that drank together that evening. Unremarkable for their times, torn and disheveled some of them, they could not know and would never know the impact the deeds they had done, and were about to do, would make upon their homeland. A nobleman, a manservant, peasant and yeoman, they were now brothers, and their sacrifices that had forged their brotherhood were even now chiseling like a mallot to granite something stronger than any of them could ever guess. These humble men drank and talked and together they watched a setting sun. The shadows of twilight yawned upon the planks of their cog, and hid changes that only time could reveal.

Sunset.

Time to begin the unfolding of the sails. Robin moved apart from the men and turned to take one last look at Acre disappearing in a wave of heat as the sun ended its arc. The waves were bluer than he had ever seen, as blue as the eyes of Marian, he thought. A lump came to his throat. Time to say goodbye. Goodbye to his childhood dreams. Goodbye to a thousand nights in the Holy Land when his last prayer each night had been for her. When he had come to the realization at last that it was a mistake to fight and kill for a Pope or even a King, and when he had understood fully what he had given up.

Bow in hand, Robin watched the sandy breezes shimmer across the beaches of Acre. With a pang, he thought how odd that now it was she, Marian, who would remain in Acre and he would be in England, waiting. Waiting for what? he mused ruefully. Yet another confused thought which he deftly replaced with another image of Marian, threatening him with a bow at the door of Knighton Manor, the day he had returned from the Holy Land. He remembered the absolute RELIEF he had felt when he saw she was unmarried. He had felt hope then, despite her anger. He felt nothing like hope now.

Visions of Marian holding the foundling baby in a Locksley cottage. That one did its work and he let the tears go. Down his face they streamed and he turned to face the darkened shore of Acre and he savored and treasured a million regrets and images that he knew he should never allow himself to think of again. When he COULD think again he would plan. And the plan would be first to meet the courier that King Richard was sending to arrest Vasey and Gisbourne. Gisbourne! The name burned his mind like fire, and Robin allowed something that he had never truly felt before to dance in his head before he pushed it away. It was hate. And now was not the time. But the time was coming and when it did, he would do things to Gisbourne that even the devil wouldn't dare think of. That would be plan number two. To make Gisbourne suffer.

Alan nudged Robin from behind: "Robin it's time"

Robin turned away from Acre, and looked into the concerned eyes of his men. Their faces were guarded but Robin saw the questions in his men's eyes. Could Robin still lead? He didn't know himself, but he could not falter now. He would not let Marian's sacrifice be for nothing. With a sigh, Robin of Locksley mustered all the bravado he did not feel and cried: "We set sail for ENGLAND!"

It was the legend, and not the man, who walked to his men and they gathered about him. Slowly the cameo landscape of Acre began to recede into the distance as the ship's sails unfurled above them. Robin breathed deep the scented air and bade farewell to much more than a foreign land.

Neither Robin, nor his men saw the torch, or the little skiff offshore. They did not hear the calls of the shadowed figure in it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 SOUTHWARK

Marian looked so calm. It was impossible to read her face but her lips were so near he ached to kiss them. He could taste her sweetness. He held her in his arms and marvelled at the softness of her skin. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her.. Suddenly, he felt her body go slack and he instinctively flexed his powerful left arm and carefully lowered her to the sand, his heart pounding madly. He would never let her fall. Never let anyone or anything hurt this angel who owned his soul. His eyes, as they had always done, of their own accord travelled down to her long throat and past her heaving bosom.

He felt something in his right hand. He knew the feel of it so well it was easy to identify. It was the hilt of his sword He knew that hilt, it was almost a part of him. A sudden wave of fear overcame him. His hand sprang open, but too late. The hilt remained where it was, in midair. His disbelieving eyes travelled slowly, terrifyingly, down the sword, down the bloodied blade...and there he beheld the impossible. His own sword glittered in the noonday sun, and jutted grotesquely from Marian's abdomen. He squeezed his eyes shut. He forced them open again. What greeted his eyes never changed. The only thing he had ever loved, the only woman he would ever love, lay crumpled at his feet. Pain and loss bloomed in him bright as the morning sun, instantly extinguishing the insane hatred which had momentarily consumed him. But too late. The damage was done. He squeezed his eyes tight, and willed himself awake. This is only a nightmare, this is not real, he told himself over and over.

THIS. CANNOT. BE. But every time he opened his eyes, there she lay bleeding to death. He would will himself back to sleep and awake again, as many times as it took...

A distant voice, a woman's voice called to him.

"The candle has burned out your lordships!" Sir Guy of Gisbourne groaned and opened his eyes. Marian and the bright sun of Acre were replaced by darkness. As the cobwebs dissipated a great sob escaped his lungs. "Dear god let it be a dream!" he prayed silently to himself. His heart beat furiously as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings.

"For god's sake man, get a grip" Vasey' s voice cleared the last of the cobwebs and Guy was now awake. And as every morning, living his nightmare.

A sleepy serving girl opened the door and brought in lit candles. She had been given instruction to wake the two travelers after their candle had burned itself out.

Guy surveyed the dingy room, an Inn where they had been forced to stop for a few short hours of rest for the horses. Moonlight spilled through open windows and outside an owl hooted. England still slept. Vasey was cursing as he threw the woolen covers aside and made his way to a washstand in the corner.

"In less than a day, we shall be in Southwark. We, and by we I mean YOU, cannot fail this time. Sir Edmund must be found and dealt with before Robin and his crusty gang can get to him." Vasey looked at Guy for some response.

"I am well aware of that my lord", Guy replied tersely. He shoved down some food that had been brought in, and buckled his sword. His face betrayed no hint of emotion.

Vasey could count on one hand the number of their conversations on the voyage back from Acre. He had tried everything he could to make Guy come round. He had screamed, he cursed, he condemned, and when that had elicited no response he had tried another tack. He had adopted his most fatherly tone and consoled. In response, Guy had looked at Vasey sneeringly, a look of something resembling amusement on his face. It had been quite a chilling sight, but no more productive.

An uneasy feeling had begun to gnaw at the Sheriff. He felt, truly felt, his hold on Guy slipping. This bothered him for more reasons than he cared to admit. Guy had changed, that much was obvious, and the catalyst for that change was unmistaken. Killing a woman was never an easy thing to do. Lot's of guilt and self recrimination generally followed, the Church saw to that. Perhaps that was it, but the answer seemed too easy. Perhaps his failure to kill the King, putting in jeopardy all their lives? No, Vasey was sure that wasn't it. The whole thing was a riddle, but riddles were made to be solved. He thought back to the killing of Marian. Whatever Guy's reaction, her death had been very il-advised. Would it be necessary to divest himself of Gisbourne because of his crime? He felt unhappy at the thought, and this was surprising. But if it must be done, then so be it. But he, Vasey, must have answers.

"Gisbourne, what made you do it? With the bloody King helpless not ten paces away! Now we have King Richard as witness that you have killed an unarmed woman", he hissed. Vasey practically moaned at the injustice of it all. Guy said nothing.

"By god the man could be dense!" Vasey fumed inwardly. But his curiosity was not satisfied. "What could Marian have said that induced you to kill her, Guy?"

Guy stiffened."My Lord, you will not mention her name again in my presence, is that clear?" Sir Guy fixed a long cold stare at the Sheriff and something in his face chilled Vasey, who made a mental note, but let the subject drop for the moment.

La de da!

But the damage had been done. Marian's name brought it all back. On that ride on the Great North Road Guy of Gisbourne could no longer manage to keep thought of Marian at bay. Her face flickered into his thoughts. Loneliness had always been his lot in life. That was nothing new. But this? This crippling solitude that was his life now, this ache for Marian? He had never cared much for the society of others. His nature was internal. That didn't mean he liked it that way, it was his nature and he could not change. He had often looked with envy at those with easy natures, those people whom others naturally liked, people like Robin Hood. He cursed to himself when he thought of Robin of Locksley. The wonder boy who had been given everything, who had given Marian up for the Holy Land, had returned and seduced Marian. Anger shook him and he hated them both at that moment. Marian had betrayed him for Robin Hood of all people. What was it was that set him apart? And most importantly, why had Marian chosen that moment to tell him all this?

A thought then struck him, and he pulled his horse up short. "What if she lied? The thought was electric, coursing through him. "Could she have told me this to distract me? To keep me from killing the king?" The thought was novel and it shook him but it didn't matter. Robin of Locksley had killed her as surely as if he had done it himself. Betrayal! His mind called up the face of Robin Hood and certain knowledge that one of them would be dead, if not both, and soon. Robin would not delay, he would come looking for him and nothing could stop that. Eagerly, he kicked his horse to pick up the pace. The sooner they reached Southwark, the sooner it would be over.

"How have I come to this?" he thought to himself in absolute wonder as together they drove on. "I have killed Marian". The words came simply and honestly and stayed there. Guy had questioned himself, berated himself, and even hated himself for as long as he could remember. But he had never seen himself as beyond redemption, until this moment. Redemption without Marian was nothing at all. He could not know how closely his reaction mirrored that of the man he now hated most in the world.

Early morning gave way to the warm sun as they neared their destination. Vasey had been watching Guy with increasing fascination "You do realize that as soon as we have squared away this business in Southwark, we must hurry back to Nottingham for damage control".

Gisborne patted his horse and looked at Vasey disinterestedly: "As you say, my Lord". Vasey's enigmatic statement got the best of him however, and Guy's curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean when you say Damage Control?"

Vasey looked at him appraisingly: "I mean, dear boy, that when we return to Nottingham we must declare Lady Marian a hero! A clue, no." Seeing no response from Guy: "Or perhaps we might declare Lady Marian an outlaw, posthumously, of course, and confiscate Knighton and all her lands and holdings. In the name of the King, of course."

Guy ignored him.

The warm sun shone directly overhead when the two tired men finally reached the great stone bridge of Southwark.

Luck had been with them when their ship arrived at Portsmouth. Prince John had liaisons in Acre and they had pigeons too, by god! One of the feathered things had been waiting for them as soon as they had set foot on English soil. Vasey had hardly believed their luck when they had read the message it carried. "Nullify Sir Edmund Stillwell". Four happy words that could win for him all that he had worked for.

"Does that mean kill him?" Guy asked without curiosity.

"Well it doesn't mean kiss him."

Vasey pointed to the Inn that stood nearest the Bridge. "There we find our prey. What a lovely name for a man about to die, Stillwell. Still well? A clue. No."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Who's the Outlaw?

"A real bed! And proper food! Thank the lord I hope never again to see another rabbit". Much jammed a round of roast pork into his mouth. His cheeks bulged and his eyes rolled in contentment. "Can there be anything better?"

"I can think of a few better things" Alan winked at the serving girl as she brought in yet more food and drink. The tired and dirty men roared in laughter, and Alan took yet another draft of Ale.

Much looked disapprovingly. "Alan, we have more important things at hand, remember yourself"

Alan laughed and tore off a piece of bread.

Little John stopped eating and grimaced. "I don't hold with all these baths, and the faster we get shed o' London and get back to Sherwood, the better, if you ask me. Towns I do not like! Nothin' but noise and people. And not a one of 'em doin' a proper days work."

Alan looked at him incredulously: "I'm not trying to be funny, but since when is Outlawin' proper work?"

Robin scanned the timber room ablaze with candles, looking for their contact. The King had given no description of Sir Edmund. Robin knew only the words the man would use to identify himself, when the time was right. He wanted it to be soon. What would happen then? Would he be called upon to meet with other nobles loyal to the King? It seemed impossible to believe that everything would go smoothly, that Prince John would choose to recognize the documents. John Lackland did not easily relinquish property. As the youngest son of Henry II, he had been bequeathed no lands himself, and thus his name given by the common folk, John Lackland.

Whatever did happen, even the return of Locksley and all his lands, meant little to Robin now. He felt as much a man of the forest, of England, as he did a nobleman. He pursued his goals because they kept him sane, he supposed. And because he would never betray the sacrifice of the woman he loved. The trials of the Holy Land, had shaken his belief in Kings. That Richard did not immediately return with Robin to set right the wrongs of England preyed on his mind, and etched yet another tiny crack in the foundation of his trust. A shattered England combined with a shattered savior is not a recipe for faith.

Robin had once had believed in the Church, but that belief was now crushed, as he had seen first-hand the villainy of the cardinals of Rome, who stood hand-in-hand with Prince John to rob the poor of England. His faith in Richard was shaken but still there. Above Richard was his faith in his men, for England, for the forest, and most of all, his faith in a woman who had sacrificed both of their lives for his faith in Richard. He knew that Marian had never completely shared his faith in Richard. And yet she had given up her life for him. And now he understood why. And the answer was the very reason he held fast to whatever ragged remnants remained of his once blind belief in the power of a king to save his people.

There were changes coming for Robin, but a man of action does not overthink. The introspections were momentary, and then quickly passed. Robin put his thoughts aside and got to the business at hand.

The Inn was filled with people eating and drinking, and comely serving maids for every table. Alan had eyes for them all, but noted ruefully most of the ladies seemed to be preoccupied, chiefly with Robin.

He musings were unpleasantly confirmed when the very serving girl that he had just given the eye appeared at their table and looked pointedly at Robin. "Is there anything else I can do for you, your Lordship?"

Robin, however, and very unsurprisingly to his band of brothers, did not seem to notice. "No thank you, just let us know when the rooms are prepared". His answer was courteous and friendly enough, as was his nature, but there was an indifference in his manner that was unmistakable. The girl, who looked perhaps 16, and more than a little pretty, got the message and directed her attention to Alan, much to his delight.

"And you sir, will you be havin' anything else?"

"What no 'your lordship' for me?"

The girl flashed her smile: "Oh pardon sir, but I can tells a nobleman from miles away. This gentleman here" she pointed at Robin "you can see he's a nobleman".

The maid refilled their flagons of Ale whilst Alan fumed. Much, who happened to be thinking of Bonchurch, which would now be his, could not resist: "And what of me?"

The girl looked at Much and nodded eagerly: "Yer a right fine spoken man, there's no denyin' that, you must be the fine gentleman's manservant! Am I right?"

The lads roared in laughter and Much's face fell. "Well, as it happens, you are quite mistaken. Well I WAS his manservant.. er.. I am now to have Bon.. Oh never mind!" Unable to reconcile his vanity with his honesty he could not think of a suitable reply.

Robin easily changed the subject. "What's your name, lass?"

"My name is Mathilda, your lordship. And you gents?" the girl replied and emboldened by Robin's sudden charm, gifted him with yet another hopeful smile.

The men looked knowingly at one another, happy to see a bit of the old Robin. The times when he was not a shattered man were few and far between.

Robin nodded toward the huge, shaggy man seated to his left: "This is Little John." "This is Much." He pointed out the smaller man wearing a large hat and multiple scarves. "And last but not least, Alan Adale". Upon which Alan stood and bowed to the lady in what he thought to be a very fine impersonation of a gallant..

"And my name is Robin"

Much covered his mouth and whispered. "Robin, is this wise? Prince John has not yet been served with our pardons. We have yet to meet our contact here. Anything could happen.."

Robin replied evenly. "They have done their worst already Much."

The girl eyed the hansome blond man dubiously. "Robin Hood? You gents shouldn't tease a girl such"

"I am Robin Hood." Robin affirmed quietly.

"Well I never" The young girl seemed impressed. "The bards have been singin' yer stories of Sherwood for the last year, I never thought to meet ya, not here in London. It's too odd that I meet those others of Sherwood, And now I see in front of my own eyes Robin Hood himself!"

"Others of Sherwood?" Robin looked at his men.

"I believe this girl is referring to Lord Sheriff Vasey and Sir Guy of Gisborne" The words came from a well dressed man who had been sitting at a nearby table. The man and his party stood up and moved toward the surprised men, who instantly jumped to their feet and drew their swords.

The gentleman stopped and made a motion to his own party. There were three other men, all well dressed. "Swords will not be necessary, I am Sir Edmund Stillwell. You know my name do you not?"

Robin and his men looked at one another uncertainly. Robin took one step forward but neither he nor his men released their swords. "I know the name but not the face. The King's messenger would know the proper greeting."

"Perhaps this will convince you". The stranger turned to one of his companions who withdrew several scrolls from a leather portfolio. He turned back to Robin and spoke four words which ended all doubt: "We Are Robin Hood".

Sir Edmund called for a girl to clear the table, and afterwards Robin and his men sat tensely on one side of it whilst Sir Edmund and his companions took to the other side. Robin withdrew from his pouch the scroll that Richard 1 had given him. Affixed to the scroll was King Richard's seal, bearing the inscription 'Richard, by the grace of God, King of the English / Richard, by the grace of God, Duke of the Normans and of the Aquitanians and Count of the Angevins'. Sir Edmund opened it and read silently the contents, and passed it to be read by his companions. He turned his attention to Robin. "Do you know what is in this document?"

"I believe so, Sir Edmund. I was with the King when he wrote it".

Sir Edmund placed one of the scrolls he carried upon the table. The seal was clearly Richard's. "This too arrived from the Holy Land most recently. It is identical to your own." A faint smile appeared on Sir Edmund's face as he place the second scroll on the table. "And this is a royal decree by Prince John, regent royal of England. Your lands and titles have been restored, Robin, Lord of Locksley, and Earl of Huntington, and you and your men are pardoned in the name of King Richard, and are outlaws no more.".

Robin dropped his head to the table. Robin's men whom he loved, his brothers, erupted in cheers and Little John crushed him in a bear hug. Much, tears in his eyes looked at the heavens. "Praise god" was all he could say and he embraced his leader.

Sir Edmund waved his hand for silence. He laid out yet a third scroll. "Firstly, Robin, I should like to offer my condolences for your recent loss". Robin remained impassive and Sir Edmund continued. "This document restores the lands of Lady Marian of Knighton to you, her legal husband". He then laid out the final scroll. "And this document, charges Sir Guy of Gisborne in the attempted murder of King Richard of England, and with the murder of your wife, Lady Marian, a noblewoman."

"God bless King Richard!" Robin's hand went to the ring that dangled from a chain around his neck. There were tears all round. Even Sir Edmund seemed affected and waited quietly while Robin and his men took it all in. At last Robin pulled himself from the arms of his comrades. His eyes flashed. "And what of the Sheriff? And Sir Guy?"

"Sir Guy and the Sheriff escaped arrest two days ago. They came here, to this very Inn, in hopes of mischief. They found me, and my companions. We were not prepared to see those two, and the question we must ask is, How did Vasey know to look for me here?"

"I only care about one question. Where are they headed?"

Much looked at Robin. "They are headed to Nottingham".

Sir Edmund reached into his pocket and retrieved a folded parchment. He handed it to Robin of Locksley. "Doubtless they will not like what they find. This is a warrant for their arrests. Vasey is no longer the Sheriff of Nottingham, but he and Sir Guy of Gisborne are now outlaws themselves".

The irony did not fail to elicit guffaws from Robin and his men.

"I hope this teaches them a lesson! Now they can enjoy the endless delights of rabbit every meal. Oh, how I would love to see that", Much enthused. Much cared least among all Robin's men for living under the stars.

"Lucky Bastards", Little John interjected. He loved the forest most, and did not relish sharing Sherwood.

Alan looked a bit mournful himself. "It's all well and good for you, Much. You will have your lodge, and Robin his titles, but what'll we have?

"You'll be my guest at Locksley, Alan". Robin said, as he put his arm around Alan's shoulder. He looked toward the others "All of you will, and for as long as you care to stay".

Robin folded Marian's ring back beneath his shirt, next to his heart, a thoughtful look on his face. "One thing I do not understand, Sir Edmund. Why would Prince John give up so easily?"

"He had little choice, the King has enough grievances against him. His couriers have already been sent to Nottingham to begin preparations for the grand occasion".

Robin looked at Sir Edmund blankly.

"Do you not know, Robin? The king has left Jerusalem". Sir Edmund saw Robin's puzzled face and put it plainly, "Robin, King Richard is, at this very moment, enroute for England!"

Sir Edmund took Robin aside and half whispered, "Robin, I am a servant of the King. It is what I have always been, and I am sure I do not have to tell you how it is with Kings. Strike now while the iron is hot. Do not wait. King Richard cares most for the Holy Wars. Wars cost money, and there are many who have it and will give it to the King. Most of them oppose you, Robin. Do not let Vasey and his henchman out of your grasp."

Robin gritted his teeth. "I do not intend to."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Roses

"Home!" Much exclaimed as he grasped Robin's arm. Robin and his men stood on a hill and looked down to see nestled amidst the wintry landscape, the town of Locksley. It was December, 1192. Three months had passed when last he had seen Locksley and the changes in that short time seemed greater even than they had been upon his first return from the Holy Land. Part of the change was the winter itself, of course. The trees were bare shadows of their summer glory, and nothing seemed to move, as if preserved in ice. The sky was cloudless and the afternoon light held a clarity and stillness that can only be found in an English winter. A light frost covered the moss as they slipped down the hill, and Robin could taste England in the air with each exertion. "Locksley" He whispered to himself, and his breath made crystalline smoke as he exhaled. Robin and his men were hardly dressed appropriately for the weather and they scurried quickly through the town, anxious for the warmth of Locksley Manor. Only a few people were outside. And, Robin noted grimly, only a very few cottages showed any sign of a fire at the hearth. As they passed the mill, they spied Aelric, whom Robin and Much had known since childhood. Aelric turned and stared at them and quickly turned back, lest he be beaten, no doubt. But then his body stiffened and he turned back to face Robin and his weary men, recognition slowly dawning on his features. At last, sure that his eyes did not betray him, he began to cry loudly: "The young master! Master Robin has returned".

At first, faces appeared from behind corners, and from windows, as the populace of Locksley tried to see what the commotion was about. Then the square began to fill with villagers, who came to see for themselves that their Robin had indeed come home. At length, they surrounded Robin and his men in such multitude that they could advance no further.

The poor and starving of Locksley crammed around Robin and his men. "The master, the master" they repeated and the chorus grew louder as more and more villagers joined the throng.

Robin cringed as he surveyed the villagers of Locksley. Almost every face was scarred in some way. Countless eyes were missing, how many hands were missing, or fingers missing, was impossible to count there were so many. The awful truth of it shamed him. These were the people he had grown up with. The people he was sworn to protect. Every face that gazed up at Robin, as he and his men stared in wonder at the throng that surrounded them, every face was known to him.

Robin's eyes took in Aelric, who had once been the village smith. It was hard to believe this was the same man. His face and body were barely more than bones and sagging skin. He put an arm around the old man and hugged him, and felt his starving frame. The old man looked back at the young master now grown and whose face looked as careworn as his own.

"Master Robin, it's good to see you" were his simple words.

Faces that had been mangled by cruelty and want, by hunger and fear, looked back at Robin's party as they made for the manor. With each passing moment, however, as the villagers saw for themselves the return of the young master, a subtle change in their expression began to take shape. There was still hunger and pain, but on each one a glimmer of hope had already begun to replace fear.

Robin felt old Aelric shiver next to him, and he noticed that he wore no cloak. He took off his own, that had seemed so poor just minutes earlier and was humbled. He placed his cloak around the old man's shoulders. A quick glance around and Robin and his men noted grimly a number of men and women stood barefoot on the frost covered earth, their feet dancing to keep warm, just to see the young master's return. Few wore furs of any kind.

"Good people of Locksley, get yourselves inside to your fires, it is far too cold out here. For those of you with no fires to warm you, men will be sent with firewood and kindling, and food from my table."

And so Robin, for whom hope was merely a word, continued to make his way slowly to Locksley manor.

...

Thornton and the other servants were there to greet Robin and his men when they entered Locksley Manor. Clearly they had been tipped off.

"Master Robin" he cried as he had warm things brought for Robin and his men. Robin looked with surprise to see his old clothing. He looked at Thornton questioningly.

Thornton smiled more than a little self satisfied. "I had your things uncrated and removed from the cellar, Master Robin. The new Sheriff came by today and told us to expect you and your men"

Much looked surprised "The new Sheriff?"

"Yes, Sir Edmund Stillwell, I believe was the name" Thornton absently replied as he led Robin and his men to seats by a roaring fire and food was brought in.

Robin and his men stared at one another. And so it was beginning? "God bless King Richard!" Robin lifted his mug and his men joined him and drank deeply.

Little John drank his draught and then lifted his own "Here's to Robin Hood" Much and Alan cried out "To Robin" and drank along with Little John. Robin did not drink. The odd look on his face made Little John tremble. He drank another mug and scooted closer to the warm fire.

Much, in a little voice, kept his emotion in check and lifted his glass, "To Marian". The room grew quiet once again, only the crackling embers could be heard as the men sat pensively.

Suddenly a thought came to Thornton as he carved a stand of venison, and he looked about, "My lord, where IS Lady Marian, have you taken her on to Knighton Hall?"

Alan and Little John looked at one another. Robin's face turned waxen and his gaze shifted away.

Much tried to formulate a reply but was suddenly tongue tied. "Did Sir Edmund not tell you?" was all that he could manage.

"Marian is dead" Robin's face as he uttered those words was terrible to behold. "Killed in the Holy Land". His voice was so changed it took a moment for a shocked Thornton to discern from whence it came.

Robin changed the subject, "Have Thomas and some men take food and provisions to every villager. No man, woman or child is to go to sleep hungry or cold tonight".

And so it was understood that there would be no celebrations at Locksley.

The four men sat and talked in front of the hearth. As the warmth of fire and food cheered them, at last they were relaxed enough that they allowed themselves to smile. Jokes were told and smiles turned into laughter as the men drank their good English ale.

Even Robin seemed to join in. Occasionally, a smile passed over his features and reminded those around him of the Robin of before. A few times he even laughed at a particularly funny joke or some other business. His men themselves dared to hope now, that perhaps everything would turn out well.

At half past eight, a serving girl came down to tell Robin that his bath was drawn and waiting. After he had ascended the stairs, the three remaining men huddled together and began to finally share their fears in hushed voices.

"Surely this is a good sign. Robin seems to be his old self tonight.". Much offered his assessment with far more conviction than he felt.

"Don't you believe it" Little John piped in and swallowed yet another mouthful of Ale. "Robin is actin' a part right now, I've no idea why but nothin' good can come of it".

Much felt the truth in what Little John said. He had been Robin's manservant for half his life, slept in his tent in the Holy Land, fought with him and killed with him. But nothing in the past had ever hit home in this way. Robin Hood, the savior of the poor, perhaps the savior of England, had lost his own savior when Marian had died. Now that England was safe, with King Richard returning from the Holy Land, what would become of Robin Hood? What would become of all of them, for that matter?

As if reading his mind, Alan announced "With the King on his way back to England, I think in a few days I should head to Scarborough, tell Will's brother the news, and maybe find my own way in the world".

Much glared at Alan incredulously. "But Alan, you cannot desert Robin now, he needs us!"

"I'm not tryin' to be funny but for what? It's over. We've been pardoned. Robin doesn't need us now, not really".

"Aye", Little John nodded in agreement. "I miss the forest, I miss Sherwood. Tomorrow I head back to camp".

"And what of Guy of Gisborne? Robin will not stop until he kills him. Gisborne knows it, he has to. Until Gisborne is caught Robin is in danger". Much fairly hissed as the import of his own words drove deep.

Little John and Alan seemed to think this over. At last Little John looked at them both, "My money's on Robin against any man in England, I wouldn't worry on that score. But if Gisborne is up to any mischief, I can be more help to Robin from Sherwood than stuck here like a lord in butter.".

Much was about to protest, but a commotion from the Solar upstairs stopped him in his tracks. The three men made ready to jump up the stairs when the serving girl came stomping down them, in her hands a great basket. Her face thunderous as she muttered to herself. "All the time and trouble pickin' these things! Master Robin is off his head, that's what!"

She stopped at the fire and to the amazement of the men, dumped an entire bucket of white rose petals in. The pungent odor of burning petals greeted their noses as the petals hissed away, engulfed in flames.

"Here, what you doing?" Much cried out in astonishment.

"The master took one look at these here petals and practically tore my head off! Off his nut he is! He told me to burn them, said we're never to touch another Christmas rose in Locksley. He said it was murder! And me spendin' half my day picking them for the master's bath. "

She clucked and shook her head and returned to the kitchen, leaving three men to stare at the burning petals with their mouths open.

"It's worse than we thought. What can he be thinking?" Little John at last managed to blurt out.

"Do you really not know?" was all that Much could say.

...

When Robin came down from his bath he took his seat again and picked up a blanket from the pile that had been brought down for the men.

Thornton came in with a husky boy and directed him to rebuild the fire for the evening. Seeing Robin stretched out amongst his men, already fast asleep, he enquired "Master Robin, you seem quite tired, your bed has been made in the Solar".

Robin pulled the blanket tighter around himself, "I'll sleep here in the Great Hall tonight, with my men".

Thornton opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and turned toward the servants quarters.

"Thornton" Robin called, and Thornton stopped, turning again to face the young master, wondering what novelty could be next.

"Have my wardrobe emptied in the morning. Take every warm garment, every cloak, and have them distributed amongst my people in the village".

Thornton nodded wordlessly at the young man whom he had practically raised, and turned to make his way to bed himself, full of wonderment. All of his life, he had thought of Robin as "The Young Master", until that very moment. Forever more, he realized, he would think of Robin as Lord Of Locksley, and as worthy of that title as his father, or indeed any man could be.

Hours later, Thornton tossed in bed, wide awake, struggling to ignore the answer to a gnawing question that made sleep impossible. "Why had Master Robin given away ALL of his clothes?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Duty

That night as Robin and his men lay sleeping in the Great Hall of Locksley manor, a full moon lit the way as a hired coach tore through the muddied roads from Portsmouth to Nottingham. Will cursed to himself and slowed the horses as the carriage lurched wildly.

Inside the coach, Lady Marian of Knighton winced as the lurching coach jostled a surprised Djaq into her injured side. Pain shot through her body. Djaq threw open her cloak and inspected the wound. "Praise Allah the wound is not re-opened" They had departed Acre too quickly, only three weeks after Marian had been stabbed.

"Do NOT slow down, the horses are still fresh, keep moving!" Marian urgently called to Will from behind, and collapsed back onto the blankets and straw.

Will twisted round and appraised two women bouncing in the covered coach behind him. "It's not the horses I'm worried about, Marian".

"Please Will" Marian returned quietly.

Reluctantly, Will cracked his whip and held on grimly as the horses sped up, and the coach once again began to bounce violently. Djaq marvelled at Marian as she tended her. For two months the three of them had been companions on the long voyage home and her respect for Marian had grown each day that passed. She had half expected Marian to die during the trip, and had told her so before they left. The trip from Acre to England was gruelling, and even hardy men were known to succumb from its rigors. But Marian would have none of it. Her only thought was for Robin.

Marian had never cried out, not once, when her wounds had re-opened onboard ship. She had set her jaw petulantly and thrust a needle into Djaq hands. "Sew it up". It had stormed that night, and Djaq fingers had shaken visibly as she attempted to sew Marian's wound. The ship was tossed about like a child's toy and more than once Djaq had stabbed her with the needle. And yet Marian had held onto the rails with an iron grip and repeated "Just sew the damned thing". The woman was single minded and as tough as nails.

They had been robbed already not an hour after departing Portsmouth. Or rather robbers had attempted to rob them. As soon as the coach had been stopped, Marian had yanked aside a curtain and announced to a dumbstruck audience that she was the wife of Robin Hood without a trace of fear. The look on the faces of their would-be robbers had been priceless as they backed away and let the coach continue on.

"Marian we must stop at an Inn before morning, if only to refresh the horses"

Marian looked at Djaq with a note of resignation "I know it. But only for a short while, please?"

"Marian, Robin can take care of himself, how do you think he will feel if we bring you back half dead?"

"Relieved", Marian replied with a trace of a smile. Djaq had to laugh. There really was no arguing with her.

Marian looked at her with pleading eyes. "We must not tarry, Djaq, I have this feeling, this fear. If we delay too long, Robin will die, I know it!" Nothing could convince her otherwise. Djaq had reminded her that Robin could take care of himself to no avail. Marian knew better. He could take care of himself, but he would not.

...

The next day came far too quickly. Much awoke grudgingly to find Robin had already gone into the village. After a quick breakfast, he walked down to the square to see Robin, Little John and Alan busily helping with the mending of a thatched roof. He then noticed what seemed to be a large group of Gentry helping with the repairs. It looked for all the world to be young noblemen and ladies in their finest, hammering and painting along with Robin and his men. He rubbed his still sleepy eyes but the picture remained the same.

As he joined the party, Alan handed him a thatch broom. "Much, come make yourself useful."

The crisp morning air was not so intolerable with proper clothes, and with this thought Much noticed with no little amazement the what he had taken for gentry were in fact villagers, well fed and working jauntily in what he recognized as Robin's finest apparel. The spectacle was almost funny.

"Robin what have you done?" he could only wail at the thought of the fate of such finery.

"My duty, Much". Was Robin's reply.

Lord and peasant, yeoman and villager, the men and women of Locksley worked together through the morning to begin to rebuild home and hearth.

At noontime, Sir Edmund arrived with a small retinue of men. He had news. "Sir Guy and Vasey have been spotted in Aldfield. Doubtless headed for Fountains Abbey".

Robin stood stock still. His face remained immobile. His eyes drilled into Sir Edmund. Their look reminded anyone who cared to look not so much the eyes of a man, but of a predator stalking his prey. Locksley and all in it, his friends, his responsibilities, all were forgotten. "Why Fountains Abbey?"

"The abbot there is a staunch supporter of Prince John. Those two scoundrels most likely are seeking his protection, and the protection of the church".

Robin faced his men. "Then we go to Aldfield".

Sir Edmund took his arm. "Robin, I cannot sanction this. Aldfield is not within my jurisdiction. Any rash act on your part can be construed to be unlawful. Do you understand me?"

Robin seemed not to hear. He made way to the stables with his men and Sir Edmund trailing after. "Robin you must listen!"

Little John caught Robin's arm and held him still while Sir Edmund caught up.

"Robin, do not so rashly throw away what has been restored to you. Think of those who depend upon you. Think of your men. Think of the people of Locksley".

Much moved next to Robin's side and looked for confirmation from Little John and Alan, who both nodded. "Robin, the decision is yours to make. We stand with you".

Little John and Alan nodded in agreement.

"Me an' Alan, we've nothin' to lose. And if we did, hang that too".

"Hanging may well be your fate, if you persist in this course of action". Sir Edmund faced them grimly. "I will do all I can, but I have no power in Yorkshire".

Robin absent mindedly fingered Marian's ring that hung around his neck, and closed his eyes. Unbidden came memories too pure for dissolution. The aftertaste of the sweet is often bitter, and so it was with recollections of things lost for a lonely hero on that winters day in England. He kept his eyes shut for a long while, unmoving, hoping it would all go away. At last, he opened his eyes again and saw his face reflected in the eyes of his men. It seemed everyone wanted answers and he had none.

The day had grown suddenly colder as the four men waited silently for Robin's decision. Robin squared his shoulders and leaned against the rough-hewn planks of the stable. His turned his attention to a vine covered with Christmas roses, and picked one and gently inspecting it, letting his fingers trace the edges of each petal. He inhaled it's fragrance and let it fill his lungs, and shifted his gaze from the rose to the villagers of Locksley, warm and fed, hard at their daily work, unaware that their fate once again was in jeopardy.

He grimaced, almost as if in pain, and squinted into the sun, shook his head and looked defeated. "I'll leave it in your hands then, Sir Edmund".

Sir Edmund relaxed his grip and breathed an obvious sigh of relief. "All will be well, Robin. Have faith".

And with those words, Sir Edmund rejoined his small retinue and they rode on.

Much sought to give what comfort he could. "You had to let it go for now. You had no choice".

Robin who was already headed toward the Manor stopped and breathed in the fresh English air. "There is always a choice. Everything is a choice".

Just then, a little girl, no older than eight, with dark hair and wide eyes, pulled on Robin's sleeve and looked up at him shyly. "Are you Robin Hood?"

Robin picked up the little girl and marvelled at how much she reminded him of Marian, when she had been that age. He had loved her even then. His eyes swam with tears. "What is your name, lass?"

"Arwinna" The little girl replied, and asked again, "Are you Robin Hood?"

"Not anymore" was his reply.

...

After dinner, Robin and his men gathered once more around the roaring fire of the Great Hall. Robin seemed so much like the Robin of old that even Much for once could allow himself to truly relax and enjoy the moment.

Robin seemed to read Much's thoughts and gave him a grin. "Tomorrow, some workers will be sent to begin repairs on Bonchurch"

"Are you serious?"

"Much, my oldest and dearest friend, of course I am serious"

"But is this necessary? There are so many things more important..." Much could scarcely believe he said it, but knew it was true. Until Guy had been captured, and until Richard finally arrived in England, things like Bonchurch could be put off.

Robin winked. "Of course it is necessary".

He then turned his attention to Little John and Alan. "And you, my friends, I have a surprise for you as well". He tossed them a parchment he had carefully concealed for months, for just this moment. On the parchment was the unmistakable seal of King Richard. "With this, you are both commissioned by King Richard to be Royal Wardens of Sherwood".

Alan and Little John both stared at Robin in frank amazement.

Much jumped from his seat, and beamed exultantly. "I told you! I told you that Robin would not forget you". He laughed and collapsed back into his seat and downed his ale.

Back up he went as Alan and Little John stood up from their seats and looked from the parchment to Robin.

Little John's eyes filled with tears and he coughed. "I shall be back in Sherwood" he marvelled and looked at Robin who stood up himself and embraced his men.

"I'm not tryin' to be funny but somebody pinch me" Alan stared in disbelief at the parchment and looked at little John."US! Wardens of Sherwood!"

"Wardens of Sherwood" Little John repeated to himself and grabbed his friends in a bear hug.

His smile darkend just a little and he sat down and downed a flagon of Ale. "A toast to all of you, my friends" He looked at Robin. "And so, this really is the end of Robin Hood". He said with a finality.

Robin finished his own draught and for just a second, a cloud came over his face. "The end of Robin Hood"

More ale was poured and the men laughed and basked in the warmth of the fire as the evening wore down. But each of them felt a sadness that there was no need to share. They all felt it, and they all knew the others felt it too. Something beautiful was coming to an end.

At length the serving girl came down and loudly announced that the master's bath was ready.

"Another bath, what do you take 'em every day?" Little John teased as Robin took his leave.

When they were gone, Much could not resist. "Did I not tell you Robin would not forget you?"

"Aye, you were right about that" Alan assented and Little John nodded. "Still, I don't trust the King. He could change his mind".

"Robin has faith in the King" Much offered a bit defensively

"That's true" was all the reply he got.

They drank their ale and after half an hour Little John grunted "He sure do like his baths".

Alan was by now quite drunk and could only say "That's nobles for you, always bathing and such".

"Hardly, this is very unusual for Robin, He never before bathed every day" With a start, Much jumped from his seat and looked wide eyed at Little John and Alan.

Little John saw the look in Much's eyes as he ran up the stairs "What? What is it?" And then they exchanged looks and followed Much up the stairs.

Much ran for the door of the Solar, not sure what he would find, but he knew now. It all made sense. Robin, suddenly his old self, all smiles and mirth. The bequests to those he loved. His clothes!, everything!

He held his breath as Little John kicked in the door and there was precisely nothing. No Robin, and no bath.

Little John grabbed the serving girl who came to see what the noise was about. "Who told you to announce Robin's bath?"

The girl looked at the three crazed men fearfully and then swallowed hard. "The Master did. He told me to announce his bath".

"My god he is off to kill Sir Guy alone!" Alan wailed as they rushed out.

Much's heart dropped like stone, and he muttered as they set off for Aldfield "If not worse".


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Piety

"This CANNOT continue Frere Robert"

"Tuck, if you please, my Lord Abbot"

The Lord Abbot Ralph Haget looked at his monk disdainfully. There could be no greater difference in the appearance of two men of the same order. The abbot's white Cistercian robes were arranged perfectly, set off by a jeweled crucifix . Clearly he was of high birth. His elegant features and high cheekbones were marred, however, by a perpetual expression of arrogance and self superiority.

The man who stood before him was a study of careless appearance. He wore no covering over his stubbly tonsure, and a bit of breakfast stained the white sleeve of his robe. The locals had taken to calling him "Tuck" because of his affection for fishing and his habit of tucking his monks robes into his boots when so occupied.

Frere Roberts fleshy round face was full of kindness, however. The corners of his mouth turned up to give always the illusion of a smile. He might have been taken for simple, were it not for his eyes. The eyes were large and round, framed with dark lashes. They were gentle eyes with a depth in them which somehow implied that they had seen too much. In this respect they were similar to the eyes of many a Saxon.

"Look at your hem, covered in filth! I suppose you have been helping the lay brothers in the fields and neglecting your Latin again?"

The Abbot did not wait for a response. "Twice you have disobeyed my orders. You are a Christian monk, you cannot be seen in the villages encouraging the locals in their pagan rituals."

Frere Tuck's eyes flashed "My lord Abbot, I am a good Christian. I render unto the Lord that which is his"

The Abbot looked the monk derisively. "And what is this, then?" He flung back Tuck's cloak to reveal a large bladder dangling from his shoulder. "Is that a boar's heart for the pagan sacrifices?"

"They are not sacrifices. It is the Yule feasting. The time of the Wild Hunt of Grim, the Hooded Hunter. The time of the Robin and the Wren!"

"Listen to yourself! You must give up these heathen practices".

Frere Tuck sighed. "Yes, my lord". What good would it do to explain? The Abbot was a Norman. He could never understand the Saxon traditions. He could certainly never understand that the time of the Hooded Hunter was the Saxon hope for deliverance. And maybe it was best that the abbot could not and would not understand.

"You may continue your studies, but be warned, you are not a layman, it is not your job to tend sheep or plant corn, your function is study, nothing else".

Tuck wiped his brow and with relief and hurried toward the exit. As he neared the door, Frere Jean entered and swept past him with an imperious glance at his brother monk. "Cistercian indeed" Frere Tuck huffed to himself as he noted Jean's finery and pride which so resembled the Abbot's. Certainly his robes were arranged as beautifully as those of the Lord Abbot. Frere Jean, like the Lord Abbot, was not well liked by his brother monks. He pretended to speak no Saxon but the Abbot's Norman French was so corrupted that they were forced to speak English. A fact of which his brother monks were well aware, and took no little satisfaction in. "French Peacock" Tuck muttered to himself and waddled on.

"My Lord Abbot, I have information concerning Robin Hood" Frere Jean announced grandly and in perfectly good English.

The Lord Abbot quickly made sign for the monk to be silent. His eyes darted to the exiting monk, who showed no evidence that he had heard and continued his exit, pulling the oak door closed behind him.

When he was sure they were alone, he hissed: "Discretion, Frere Jean discretion! Now, tell me your news, quickly".

"One of the brothers has just returned from Aldfield. Robin Hood is there, asking questions about Sir Guy and Vasey. It is only a matter of time before he finds his way here, my Lord Abbot".

The Lord Abbot turned pale. "Robin Hood here? How could he know to look here?"

"I do not know, my Lord Abbot. If it pleases, I shall find the Saxon dog and put an end to him".

"It certainly does not please, idiot. We are men of god. How would it look to King Richard when he arrives to find that a monk from this order has killed Robin Hood, whom he has just pardoned?"

Frere Jean bowed his head. "I'm sorry my Lord Abbot. I did not think".

"That is correct, you did not. Besides, from all reports Robin Hood is the finest archer in England, and just as gifted with sword and quarterstaff. Do you really think you would survive the encounter?"

The Lord Abbot ignored the injured look of his monk. "Inform Sir Guy and the Sheriff that Robin Hood is on his way to the Abbey. Let those two insufferable fools deal with this".

"Yes my Lord" Frere Jean turned to make his leave.

"And hurry back here as soon as you have done so. We leave immediately on business for London. I wish to be as far away from Fountains as possible, when hell breaks loose".

"Yes my Lord", Frere Jean repeated, and ran from the room.

The Lord Abbot did not wait for a reply. He immediately called for his litter and made preparations for departure.

….

Frere Tuck ducked behind a column and froze as Frere Jean ran past and disappeared into the refectory. He HAD heard of course. The words "Robin Hood" had hit like a hammer blow. He had hurried out and his shaking hands had managed to leave the door slightly ajar. So slightly ajar that no one would notice. Heart pounding he had pressed his ear to the door and managed to hear every word, barely containing himself when he knew he extent of the Abbot's treachery. His heart thumped in his chest as he made his way outside and toward River Skell. "Robin Hood, the green man!" He wheezed as he ran, his heart pumping. He had to find the hooded man before he reached Fountains Abbey. His mind buzzed as he hid himself in some shrubs near the bridge. Robin would be forced to enter the Abbey this way. His body shook as he waited, but not from the December chill. Robin of the Hood? The name he had heard before and the ballads too. But now, at this time, at Yule, for the Hooded Man to be on his way here, it could not be a coincidence. He mopped perspiration from his forehead and waited.

…

The men were stopped to water their horses. They knelt on the bank themselves and drank from the cold running stream of the Skell.

Much grimaced as the icy water burned his throat: "My god this water is like ice."

Little John shivered: "Better than frozen solid, at any rate"

Alan looked into the horizon and pointed to a spot in the distance that looked like every other clump of forest in the horizon: "There, there is Fountains Abbey. Not more than two miles".

Much looked at Alan anxiously. "Are you sure, Alan? Perhaps we should have gone to Aldfield first?"

"I'm sure, Much. Trust me, I know Yorkshire like the back of my hand".

The three men hurriedly mounted their horses. Alan moved his horse to lead and then froze. He jerked his horse to a stop and motioned to the others, pointing to a clump of bramble on the other side of the clearing and whispered: "I'm not tryin' to be funny, but did anyone else hear horses?"

They held their breath and released the reigns, readying their bows. A few birds sang from the trees. From the right the chattering of a squirrel could be heard scolding. But nothing else.

"Alan, not to put too fine a point on it, but what do you think we are riding? We must hurry" Much hissed.

"No, I am sure I heard OTHER horses".

"Indeed you did" A voice called from behind a clump of trees at the edge of the clearing.

The three men pulled their bows taught toward the direction from whence the voice came, their faces hard.

"Come out and show yourself or prepare to die." Little John nudged his horse forward and pulled his quarterstaff onto his lap.

The branches parted and the three men groaned with relief. Sir Edmund Stillwell rode into the clearing. Behind him were the two horsemen who had accompanied him to Locksley.

Much finally found his voice "You followed us!"

"I believe that is obvious".

Little John moved his horse into Sir Edmunds path.

"I hope you do not think to stop us".

"Actually, I stayed close by when I left Locksley. The look on Robin's face when I told him of Guy's whereabouts was unmistakable. I knew he would not be deterred and I knew you lot would follow. I thought you might need some help".

The three men looked at one another and grinned. "Then let's be off, there is no time to waste".

"First time I was ever glad to see a Sheriff!" Little John sang out, as the men raced for Fountains Abbey.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Legends

Frere Jean put a shaky finger to his lip and drew away blood. The salty taste of it filled his mouth. Warily, he picked himself up from the floor and backed away from his attacker. The tall dark man who loomed over him shook out his fist and leaned against a wall. "Get out now".

Frere Jean spun about indignantly and wordlessly departed the room, holding his sleeve to his cheek.

Vasey buckled his sword and handed another to Sir Guy. "Cowards all of them. Worse than lepers. Did you really expect anything else of the Abbot?"

Sir Guy holstered the sword and flexed his fist, still stinging from the impact of slapping down a man of god. "Not at all. " His almost looked at peace now.

"Then why bother?"

"To wipe that simpering smile off his face."

Vasey and Sir Guy pulled on their woolen cloaks. Vasey tightened his cowl and looked at Sir Guy reflectively. "Well I guess there's nothing for it but to find the cur and kill him before he finds us" The two men braced themselves for the cold and left the refectory. Now the question was, how did one go about hunting a hunter?

Both men scanned the vast grounds of the Abbey. A light snow had begun and there was no one to be seen. In the very far distance, what appeared to be two laymen were herding sheep to shelter, but it was difficult to be sure. The monks were apparently and conveniently at study it seemed. The two newly minted outlaws silently took stock of the situation. They had only one another now.

"Well if it is just Robin, we are two against one." Vasey offered helpfully.

Sir Guy gifted the former Sheriff with a cold look. "Thank you for pointing out the obvious."

The sheriff turned outlaw blanched. "Ah he speaks! And do allow me to note that your new outlook is most un-refreshing."

The new and improved Sir Guy of Gisborne did not seem to feel the rebuke. "I live for your approbation, My Lord Sheriff". He bestowed upon an increasingly agitated Vasey yet another disparaging look.

Vasey's agitation was rapidly becoming much more. He made yet another attempt to put his former henchman in his place: "You needn't be surly. It is YOUR head Robin is after, not mine. No one forced you to kill the girl".

The last syllable had barely escaped Vasey's lips when he found Gisborne's huge hands at his throat. Sir Guy calmly began to squeeze. Vasey gasped for air as Gisborne's long fingers slid tighter. Eyes bulged and hands dug uselessly against sinewy forearms. Gisborne's strangely expressionless face filled the sheriff's vision which rapidly began to fade to black. Vasey had no time for terror, nor for protection. And then the pressure was gone and Vasey lay gasping for air.

When he could once again see, Sir Guy was standing calmly, watching him. "When we find Robin, he is mine".

Vasey did not pursue the subject. Killing the girl had changed Gisborne forever. He had long known that. But now a new reality reared into existence. Vasey recognized that the change in Gisborne had engendered heretofore unimaginable repercussions. Sir Guy of Gisborne was no longer his henchman, and he was no longer the master. He did not like the change.

Vasey took stock of his companion. He had to admit, the changes in Gisborne were not just interior. He actually looked different. Vasey could not put his finger on exactly what the outward change was. Sir Guy had always been tall and muscular, that had not changed. His body was long and powerful, but no different than it had always been. The changes seemed to be centered on the face, not in the face actually but in the expression. Guy's face had always been marred by something of a sneer. That was the difference, Vasey realized. The sneer was gone. The effect seemed to unmask Sir Guy's features and reveal qualities that Vasey himself had never realized were there. Sir Guy of Gisborne was beautiful. Vasey stopped his trek, suddenly overcome by the absurdity of the situation.

"Guy, should I thank you for putting me in this ridiculous position? A clue. No".

Sir Guy eyed Vasey coolly. "Pray, continue"

The Sheriff obliged. "Here we are, traipsing about the grounds of some moth eaten Monastery, chasing down the finest archer in England, who will most likely fill both of us with arrows long before we know he is within a mile. And all because my right hand man and the people's savior have been reduced to love-struck schoolboys, who care for nothing more than to beat one another's heads in!"

Sir Guy ignored his rant. "We would do well to keep to the perimeter and steer clear of the open areas". Robin Hood with a clear shot meant certain death.

The two men fastened their cloaks and moved forward away from the clearing. Sir Guy's heart pumped as he felt the end finally nearing. Exactly who would die he did not know. And it did not matter, and would not matter as long as the face of a girl haunted him. He knew she was in heaven, if anyone ever belonged there, Marian did. He wondered if she was in pain now, fearfully watching over Robin Hood. His eyes felt the stinging of the cool air and he wiped them on his sleeve. Multiple emotions fought side by side in his heart as he hunted the hooded man. Love for Marian, and hatred for himself because he was such a fool. Hatred for Marian because he knew she would suffer even in heaven for Robin if he died this day. And oddly, horribly, love for Robin because Marian loved him. It was this last feeling that fueled his anger and hatred most. If he died today then the pain was over. If Robin died then maybe he could forget everything and things could return to normal. Marian was no longer his redemption. But Robin was most definitely his hell.

…..

Frere Tuck was beginning to rethink his plan. Although it was not a particularly cold day for December, it was cold enough. And then there were the inevitable hunger pains. He eyed the chilly waters of the Skell. "What harm can a morsel of trout and a bit of a warm fire do?" he murmured to himself, half decided. But then again, there was the Abbot and his retinue of Monk Knights to think of. For the better part of an hour he weighed the consequences until hunger began to get the upper hand. He searched about the bramble for some faggots for a fire.

It was at this time that he heard the muffled clatter of horses hooves on the frosty path and hid himself again. Presently a small processional came into a view, clearly having departed the Abbey. At the front, were two standard bearers, followed by the Abbot's carriage. There were knights and pack animals and several carts and carriages containing provisions for the trip. Frere Tuck's spirits began to rise. The standard bearers could only mean the Abbot was leaving for an official visit. Surely enough, he could see the Abbot as his carriage passed, surrounded by some of his knight monks on horseback.

Frere Tuck kept himself hidden near the bridge as the processional passed within feet of his hiding place. He had trouble suppressing a giggle when he spied Frere Jean riding horseback beside the Abbot's carriage, his face swollen and sporting the beginnings of a serious blackened eye. The two appeared to be engaged in a heated discussion. "My Lord Abbot do you think it wise to stay at Barrows Inn, with a proper monastery close by at York?" He could not make out the Abbot's reply and the processional moved out of earshot. He had heard enough however. His ears had picked up the word "London" peppered into the conversation, and the good Monk relaxed. He happily watched the Abbot's processional disappear into the distance, and then set up a fishing line and began a fire. "The odds just got better for Robin Hood", he thought to himself, and continued his wait.

…..

Robin dismounted his horse and inspected the stable, the furthest one from the Abbey and closest to the bridge which led to the grounds. In the distance Fountain's Abbey rose up white and pristine. He snuck to a shutter and lifted it aside. Inside the stable were a few oxen and a horse, nibbling bundles of fresh hay and oats, in their stalls for the evening. He heard the sound of muffled voices from the north side just outside double doors. He circled round and crept up to see two laymen putting their tools away. He drew his sword and waited until they had finished and then watched them stroll toward the Monastery, most likely for prayers. "Would I really kill men of god if they tried to stop me?" he whispered to himself. He knew the answer and hated himself for it. But Marian's face as she lay dying burned down deep like an ember inside Robin of the Hood, and he would not stop now.

He led his horse into the stable and to a stall with hay and water. Best to continue the rest of the way on foot. Patting the horse, he left the stable and set out for Fountain's Abbey.

Robin readied his bow and quietly crept along the River Skell. The sound of the rushing water soothed him as he moved forward. He marveled at the natural beauty that surrounded him. It had been far too long. There was a time when he would sit for hours contemplating the beauty of an English countryside in winter. He could not remember the last time he had thought about it. England for the last few months had ceased to be his inspiration, but was now his hunting ground. "When guy is dead, when Marian is avenged… maybe then.." He shook off thoughts of anything but retribution and continued his hunt.

Ahead of him lay the bridge that led to the grounds of Fountain's abbey. As he neared the bridge, he saw the smoke of a campfire wafting slowly up through the branches of a stand of oak. Cautiously he crossed over and neared the campfire. Over the fire were several large trout roasting. Robin looked about and saw no one. He followed the incline that led to the bank. A makeshift fishing line was tied to one of the oaks and stretched quivering into the Skell.

"What, ho Villain, what is your business with my dinner?"

Robin turned to find a sturdy Monk holding a sword aimed straight at his heart. Robin raised his hands above his head. "business".

Frere Tuck held the sword and took stock of the young man. Surely this cannot be Robin Hood, he thought to himself, this man is hardly more than a boy. The tall young man was thin and wiry, his face uncommonly handsome. He noted the Saracen bow and calloused fingers. Clearly an experienced archer, so he could be Robin Hood. But if he WAS Robin Hood, where were his men? "What is your name, Lad? And do not let this round belly fool you. I know my way around a sword".

Robin eyed the fat monk. The Abbot was a traitor, but were the monks? He thought it best to be discrete. Robin affected his best Yorkshire accent. "My name is John of Warfield, I was just lookin' for a bit a work, your lordship".

Frere Tuck sighed. This could not be Robin Hood, not so young, not with a heathen bow. But clearly he was lying. "Best be on your way then". To add emphasis, he pressed his sword an inch closer to the young man's face.

The young man turned to leave and suddenly Frere Tuck found an elbow slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He quickly found himself prostrate on the ground with a sword inches from his face. His eyes travelled up the sword to the face of the young man standing over him. He no longer looked like a callow youth. His face seemed to be suddenly years older and the expression was world weary, that of an experienced warrior. This must be him! "Robin!" he gasped. "Are you Robin Hood?"

Robin started, surprised to hear his name. He grabbed the monks collar with one hand and held the sword tight to his neck "How do you know my name?"

"I'm a friend, Robin! The Sheriff and Sir Guy are here, and they have been alerted to your presence. You were seen in Aldfield."

The news sent a shockwave through Robin. He pulled the sword back a few inches and released his grip. His eyes narrowed at the mention of the names. "And what of the Abbot?"

"He left for London as soon as word came. The traitorous dog. Sir Guy and the Sheriff hunt you on their own."

Robin released the monk. "What is your name then?"

"Frere Robert. But my friends call me Tuck".

Robins face was hard. "Are Guy and Vasey still in the Monastery?"

Frere Tuck shook his head. "I honestly do not know". His words fell on deaf ears. Robin was already moving toward the mouth of the river, to the Water Mill. Frere Tuck gathered his sword and quickly followed.

As they crept forward, a strange thing happened. A Robin flew overhead and passed directly over Robin Hood, and then landed in an Oak Tree. Robin scarcely noticed but beside him Frere Tuck felt the hairs of his neck stand up. He watched with wonderment as a Wren appeared and flew to the tree next to the Robin. He pulled Robin to a stop and pointed to the Wren and Robin together. "It's a sign! I knew it!"

Robin shook him off, and continued toward the Water Mill. Frere Tuck sighed and ran to catch up with Robin. Together they reached the Water Mill which loomed atop a hill. It was connected to a bridge, and both bridge and Water Mill were built over the Skell. Robin crossed the bridge and looked below. The Skell River roared beneath them, and ran directly into a waterfall. Above them a few paces from the mill, was a well, further atop the hill. Robin's vision was legendary. He could see things that other men could not, and it was no different on this day. He saw two men coming up the hill from the other side of the Monastery. His sharp eyes recognized immediately who they were. His face turned to stone and he made sign for Frere Tuck and gave him his bow "Do you know how to use this?" Frere Tuck nodded. "Keep the bow trained on Vasey".

Robin and Frere tuck hid themselves and presently they heard footsteps as the two men approached. The footsteps grew louder until the men rounded the corner, and stopped. There stood Robin Hood, his face a study of hate. In his hand he held a sword. His unflinching eyes burned into Sir Guy of Gisborne. Vasey reached for his sword and Frere Tuck stepped out from his hiding spot, his bow trained directly at him and cooed: "I wouldn't move a finger if I were you. Throw down your weapon".

Vasey considered his options and dropped his sword. Guy was on his own.

Robin advanced toward Guy and the two men circled one another. Months of pent-up fury now blazed across both their faces.

Robin did not see the wild man who circled him. He did not see the months of sleepless nights, or the uncut hair. He saw Marian. He saw her bent body as Sir Guy of Gisborne shoved his sword deep into her chest. Marian's ring, hanging against his chest, seemed to have a life of its own, and kept time with each thunderous beat of his heart. He heard his voice ring out, "The Time has come for you to pay for what you did"

Guy of Gisborne staggered as the truth in Robin's words stoked the fires of hell inside him. Marian, he whispered to himself, Marian! He drew his sword and prayed for deliverance.

"NO! It was you! YOU FORCED ME TO DO IT!"

"You murdered her" Robin's face contorted. He would send this devil to hell with something to think about, "She didn't love you, you couldn't have her"

Gisborne swayed as Robin's words fed his torment. His tortured heart would have its say: "She should have been mine!"

Robin savored this moment. "SHE WAS MY WIFE!"

And the two enraged men threw themselves into one another. Their bodies collided and they were both thrown into the air as if they had exploded. Swords swung uselessly as the men sought to tear one another apart with bare hands. And then it was over as quickly as it had begun. Robin's feet slid from beneath him as Sir Guy flung himself head first into his torso, and Robin's head came down with a sickening thud against the stone well.

Sir Guy felt Robin's body go limp and he lifted himself to his knees. Robin looked back at him blankly, and groaned. Guy stood up and pulled Robin to his feet, Robins words still ringing. "SHE WAS MY WIFE!"

Sir Guy struggled for breath. He picked up the dazed man who had married the love of his life as easily as if he were a child.

"Prepare to die, Robin Hood"

Vaguely he heard screams as he lifted an unmoving Robin Hood over his head. The screams were drowned out by the softest voice in the world. The voice of Marian, softly repeating "I LOVE ROBIN HOOD".

With a savage cry, Sir Guy of Gisborne released his grip and watched as Robin of Locksley dropped down the well.

He turned and collapsed, struggling for breath. It was then that he saw the six horses not twenty feet away. He watched as Robin's men dismounted. He reveled in the sight of his revenge reflected in their twisted faces. Satisfaction filled him as he heard their agonized screams. Revenge was sweet. Sir Guy of Gisborne welcomed death as he watched Much, Alan and Little John draw their swords and advance.

"Wait, there is still a chance! The drain" The monk jumped up like a man afire.

Everyone stopped as the fat monk half slid down a path on the far side of the well. "The Drain?" Much looked at the others. "Bring them!" and the men slid down the path the monk had taken, dragging Vasey and Sir Guy with them. At the bottom the monk scrambled to an iron grill work and pulled. "The well is built into the side of this hill." He explained haltingly as he struggled to pull away the iron grill.

Little John released his hold on Sir Guy. "Kill him if he moves"

"With pleasure" Alan said with clenched teeth, and he pointed his bow at Guy's heart. Sir Edmund signaled his men and they moved behind Sir Guy and Vasey.

Little John pushed the monk aside. He grasped the iron grill and gritted his teeth. He began to pull. The iron grill gave way with a loud screech. He threw it aside and collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. The little monk scrambled into the small round drain.

Much fixed his eyes on Sir Guy, his cheeks wet with tears. His voice shook as he spoke. "Pray that Robin is not dead".

The men waited silently as the monk crawled into the dark drain, until only his feet could be seen.

After a few moments, the Monk gave a muffled cry, "I have him!"

Alan and Little John tugged at the monks feet and pulled. Out he came, in his arms was Robin of Locksley. Blood covered his body. Thick pools of blood poured from behind his head.

The monk pulled his blade and held it to Robin's mouth. He held it there and then studied the result. He lay his head on Robin's unmoving chest as the men watched helplessly.

The monk looked up at the men waiting anxiously. "Well!" Much's voice broke. "Is he alive?"

Frere Tuck looked away, avoiding their eyes. "Robin Hood is dead."

For three of his brothers, the world stopped. Little John collapsed into the arms of Alan and Much and they held one another. Their grief knew no pride and they cried. Frere Tuck covered his eyes. Legends do not go quietly. They take with them men's souls.

Sir Edmund turned to face Robin's murderer. "Sir Guy of Gisborne and Lord Vasey of Nottingham, I charge you with treason against the King, with the murder of Lady Marian of Knight.. " his voice faltered. "And with the death of Lord Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington".


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Robin

Much grabbed his sword and hurtled toward Sir Guy of Gisborne. His stunned mind obeyed his body, and his body sought its target. Sir Edmund stepped between the distraught men and held out his hand. "These two men are now in custody of the King. They will stand trial in Nottingham for their crimes".

Sir Edmund's men, as if on cue, took position to block access to Sir Guy and Vasey. Little John and Alan followed Much, advancing upon Sir Guy and Vasey with swords ready, their tear stained faces hard. Sir Edmund squared his shoulders and stepped forward. "Men, I know your grief, but this is not the way. Robin would not want this. Allow me to take these men to Nottingham".

Little John and Alan stopped short, considering Sir Edmund's words. But Much was past reasoning. His body shook and continued it's trajectory… his body and sword an arrow pointed at Sir Guy and Vasey. Sir Edmund's men caught him by the arm and held him as the flayed about wildly.

Sir Edmund faced the grieving man. "Much, do not dishonor Robin's memory. Do not lose everything yourself. Think of Bonchurch".

Much continued to struggle, but his mind reeled. Bonchurch! It hit him. His body went slack, supported now only by the grip of the two men. Wild instinct was replaced with sudden, deadly clarity. In the corner of his eye, he saw Little John and Alan exchange a knowing look. Bonchurch. He cast his mind back, empowered by this newfound clarity, to each and every time he had publicly bemoaned the loss of Bonchurch. He could see Robin's face, as he patiently, or at least wordlessly, endured each and every episode. Robin. Robin, his friend. Robin, who had lost so much more than a promise. He planted his feet on the ground, eyes clear and calm. He shook off the two men who held his arms and shifted his gaze to Robin, who lay crumpled in the arms of the strange monk. The new risen moon reflected in a perfectly round pool of his blood. His friend who had given up a Lordship, an Earldom, money lands and most of all, Marian. That same man who had shrugged off each and every mention of Bonchurch wordlessly.

The unendurable pain of loss was now doubled as Much now confronted self-awareness. His very definition of himself was challenged at this moment. Much turned away from Sir Guy and revenge, his body suddenly crumpled. Silently he walked to Robin's body. He crossed his legs and sat down next to his fallen friend, heedless of the blood. He fixed his glistening eyes on Sir Edmund. "To hell with Bonchurch!"

Little John and Alan knelt beside Much and Robin. Little John wiped tears from his eyes with his sleeve. "But the bastard must pay"

"The King will see to that. As will the people of England. Give them a chance to mourn. Give the people of England the chance to avenge Robin Hood."

Little John grasped the carved token that hung from his neck. "WE ARE ROBIN HOOD", he murmured, his voice breaking. Little John and Alan joined Much and the three men formed a circle around their fallen leader. They sat transfixed for several minutes. No one spoke, nor felt the need to. Loss covered the three men like a heavy cloak. At last, Much looked up, carefully avoiding Sir Guy and Vasey, and fixed his gaze on Sir Edmund. "Take him."

Frere Tuck cleared his throat. "It's best it were done quickly. I do not think Sir Guy would last the night here at Fountains Abbey."

Little John did not look up. "Take the horses."

Neither Sir Guy nor Vasey had spoken a word. And silent they remained as they were thrown onto the horses and Sir Edmund and his men mounted up.

Little John looked at Alan. "Will you go to Locksley and tell them what has happened. Bring back two horses." His voice broke. "And a carriage for the bod… for Robin"

Sir Edmund chose his words carefully. "You may ride with us, Alan, if you wish."

Frere Tuck stiffened. "Is that wise, Alan? Perhaps you should spend the night and leave tomorrow."

Alan stood up, tears glistening on his cheeks, and mounted his horse. "I'll take a shortcut. Besides I'm particular about my company." He fixed a deadly look on Sir Guy.

Little John and Much nodded their farewell as Alan rode to Locksley. Sir Edmund tied the reigns of Sir Guy 's horse to his own, and the Sheriff's reigns were taken by one of his deputies and together they disappeared into the night.

The stars glowed bright in the heavens and Little John whispered to them. "Him, we loved." Much looked at Little John uncomprehendingly, his eyes searching for answers. "How can this be?"

Frere Tuck supplied the answer. He vaulted from Robin's body and faced the grieving men. "Robin Hood is not dead."

With those words he sprinted down the hill and into the Water Mill. Little John and Much sat paralyzed. Moments later Frere Tuck returned, pulling a cart. "God be praised! We keep one at the Mill."

Frere Tuck scooted the cart next to Robin's body. "Get Robin into the cart! We must get Robin to a warm fire!."

Much could only stammer. "He's Alive?"

"He is, but he must be treated immediately"

Much and Little John looked at one another uncertainly. Was this possible?

Robin groaned and the men had their answer. Little John hopped to his feet and lifted Robin gingerly into the cart. Sure enough, Robin was breathing.

"But, But HOW!" Much felt the world spinning around him. "The blood!"

Robin groaned again.

Much grabbed the monk. "How is this possible? You said he was dead!" He stared at Robin in disbelief. "The Blood! no man can lose that much blood!"

The monk reached down gingerly and pulled something from behind Robin's head. He held in his hands a huge boar's bladder. A long gash in it poured out its contents. "True, but a boar can!"

Despair morphed into elation as Robin Hood groaned again and tried to move, and cried out. "Marian!", and then his head went slack.

"He is only unconscious. But we must get him into the infirmary." Little John took the handles. Together Much and Little John followed Frere Tuck and they ran toward the Abbey.

"He has a dislocated shoulder. And a nasty knot on his head, I don't think it is serious, but I am no physician." He puffed as he led the way. The cart wheels echoed on the cobblestone floors as they followed Frere Tuck down open corridors. The monks at their study heard the racket and filled the halls. Frere Tuck called out urgently, "find Frere Theodore!" An old man came running with surprising speed from the dormitories and he met the anxious party and opened the doors of the infirmary. Little John lifted Robin onto a table covered in sheepskin.

The news drifted quickly throughout the Abbey and outside the infirmary it seemed every man had come to see Robin Hood. The words "Robin Hood" echoed throughout the Abbey. The monks stood and shifted about, talking amongst themselves. Some prayed. But on every face was written the knowledge of the Saxon Lord who gave everything for his people.

Little John and Much sat on the stone hearth and warmed up as a group of monks examined Robin.

Frere Tuck paced back and forth until at last the old man, Frere Theodore, called him over. They spoke for a minute and then Frere Theodore returned to his ministrations. One of them brought a steaming mug and held Robin's head, and Robin sipped from the mug. At last Frere Tuck crossed himself and joined the men at Robin's side.

"It is better than I could have hoped." Little John and Much collapsed with relief. "He has a sprain in the shoulder and a very large knot on his head. His mind is addled for the time being, but he should recover, and quickly."

A buzz stirred throughout the room and into the halls. And then suddenly the monks erupted in a chorus of cheers as the news that Robin of the Hood would not die circulated. The din was so loud that Friar Theodore was forced to close the doors of the infirmary.

"He will not awaken, Frere Theodore has given him a draught to help him sleep," Frere Tuck continued, relieved. "Surely the signs I have seen are true. The Yule will not begin without Robin Hood. Grim has need of his hunter."

The words of the monk were perhaps the only things that could take Much's attention away from Robin Hood. He looked at Frere Tuck in amazement. "A Christian Monk who practices the old religion?"

"Aye, It's all that's left of our Saxon heritage. And the people believe it. And maybe I do too, now." Frere Tucks eyes never left Robin Hood, surrounded by the monk physicians. Robin seemed to breathing evenly.

Much opened his mouth only to close it again. "Who ARE you? Why did you say Robin was dead?"

At that moment, some monks brought in a table, piled with hot food. Frere Tuck bade the exhausted men sit and eat, and did so himself. The men shook as they ravaged the food, only then realizing how long it had been since they had eaten a meal. But their eyes never left Robin. Much noted that Robin's color had returned and thanked god as he shoved in his meal. Frere Tuck began his explanation between mouthfuls. "My name is Frere Tuck." Much looked at Little John "Friar Tuck?"

"FRERE Tuck"

"That's what I said, Friar Tuck". The abbot gave up. And besides Friar Tuck had a ring to it. At least it wasn't French.

The monk returned to the subject at hand. "I seek a place with your band. The Abbot here is a traitor to England and the King. Tomorrow is Christ's Mass. But it is also the Yule, and yonder lies the Hunter." he gestured toward Robin. "It is the time of the Wild Hunt, and only the Robin can save the lost souls of England."

Much ignored the religious talk. "I still do not understand why you said Robin was dead."

"As to why I had to engage in the subterfuge, I apologize for the pain that I caused you. But God Forgive me, I had to do something. I couldn't let Guy finish the job."

Little John looked at Friar Tuck quizzically. "Finish the job? There were only two of them against six of us."

"No, my friend. There were three of us against five of them."

Little John and Much stared at Frere Tuck blankly.

"Do you mean, Sir Edmund and his men?" Much felt more confused than ever.

"Aye, Sir Edmund, the new sheriff of Nottingham".

Much, for all his worry, had to smile at the misunderstanding. "I am afraid you are mistook, Sir Edmund is an ally."

"I'm afraid it is you who do not understand. It was Sir Edmund who escorted Vasey and Sir Guy here, and put them under the protection of the Abbot."

…..

The five men on horseback stopped on the outskirts of the grounds of Fountains Abbey. The December evening had grown noticeably colder and they directed their horses to the nearest Inn.

"Why did you leave them alive?" Vasey rubbed his wrists and took the reins. "We had them outnumbered."

"We did, but three against five is not the best odds. And other than that, there were the witnesses. I cannot allow myself to be linked to Robin's death, the King will be here soon, and Robin Hood was under his protection."

"Robin's death, I like the sound of that." Vasey turned the words over and over, exulting that he could finally say it and mean it. Robin Hood was dead. Vasey's dream of killing Robin Hood had finally been brought to fruition. By none other than Sir Guy of Gisborne. His mind kept playing that image over and over. He turned his attention to Sir Guy, who rode his horse alongside the others without a word. Vasey had half expected some change in Sir Guy now that Robin of Locksley was out of their lives, but Sir Guy still seemed pensive. Perhaps even more so than before. Perhaps it was merely the chill in the air? It was getting awfully cold.

Sir Edmund's patrician face seemed troubled. "I can see why he found the King's favor. For all his willfulness, he was a brave lad."

"Oh not you too!" Vasey's distaste read plainly on his face. "It was bad enough to be subjected to the Bards and their songs of Robin Hood, but a Norman Lord? Spare me, Sir Edmund."

"I was born in England, and am English too. I say it plainly. There was something extraordinary about Robin of Locksley."

"Perhaps you should compose a ballad in his honor yourself? A clue. no."

Sir Guy had not spoken, nor did Vasey expect him to. And so it came as a shock to everyone when Sir Guy directed his attention to Sir Edmund and spoke quietly. "So Robin hood was a hero, in your estimation?"

Sir Edmund shifted uncomfortably on his horse. "I did not say that, but yes, to the Saxon people he was most certainly a hero."

Vasey did not care for the direction this conversation was headed. He saw the look on Sir Guy's face and turned the conversation. "Well what I want to know, is how did the heroic Robin Hood know where to find us?"

"Because I told him."

Vasey and Sir Guy both pulled up their horses. Vasey stared at Sir Edmund uncomprehendingly. "You did what?"

Sir Edmund continued. "Our last message from our sources in King Richard's company indicate that it is his intention to head directly to Nottingham to consult with Robin Hood upon his arrival in England. That eventuality had to be avoided at all costs."

Vasey sputtered and attempted an epithet but Sir Edmund waved him down and continued. "I followed him of course. I did not expect that the Abbot would turn tail and run, but it did work out well enough. Robin of Locksley is no longer a threat."

Vasey fumed for a bit but his elation at Robin's death permitted no rancor in the short term. He sighed and looked at Sir Guy, still wordless, and apparently deep in thought.

The men kicked their horses to a gallop and followed the road.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Wren

"I think it is possible for a man to love one woman all his life and be better for it.

D'Artagnan, The Man In The Iron Mask

Will fell into one of his "quiet" moods as he drove the horses the last few miles. Djaq seemed to sense his need for solitude and joined Marian in the wagon. For once, Will was glad that Marian and Djaq spent so much time talking together. He loved listening to them talk, and although Djaq was of a quiet nature herself, there were times when she seemed more talkative. Will had never been one for conversation, and at this particular moment he was quite content to have his thoughts to himself. In the horizon there was a very faint glow that settled just above the tree tops far in the distance. The torches of Locksley. Home. Memories of his father spilled into his thoughts and he felt his throat constrict a little. He wondered if the cottage he had been raised in would look somehow different? Surely it was occupied by now. Would the new family know anything about the fate of the Scarlett's? Likely they would. His father, Dan, had helped build half the town. Memories came flooding in now. His dad, teaching him how to use carpentry tools, and patching the thatched roofs at Michaelmas for the winter. He could still see his mother's face as she spun flax in the evenings by the fire, and her patient smile when he stole a bit of pastie before bed. Gone now, all gone. All that remained was Luke, his brother, who lived with their aunt in Scarborough.

He felt his mood turning black and so he turned his thoughts to Little John, and Alan and Much. He could easily imagine the joy in their faces when they saw that their friends had not deserted them. And Robin. Robin when he realized that Marian was not dead. He smiled to himself as he drove the horses a bit faster. They had stopped at an Inn to feed and water the horses and throw some meat on bread and depart. The horses were fresh, which was a lot more than could be said of the ladies. And himself, he grudgingly admitted.

Marian had, against all odds, managed to recuperate somewhat despite three days on the road in a very primitive wagon. Djaq smiled in satisfaction as she inspected Marian's rapidly healing wound. She wasn't yet out of the woods, but she seemed well on her way to recovery.

"What are you smiling at?" Marian asked quizzically, noting the look on Djaq's face.

"At you. That you can heal in these conditions, you are a very strong woman."

Marian squeezed Djaq's hand. They had endured so much together. Marian and Djaq had become very dear to one another during their long voyage and each for the first time thought she knew what it felt like to have a sister. Neither had ever really known a close friendship with another of her sex. In many ways, both of them had always lived in a man's world, a world of war and politics.

"I wonder where he is now?"

"Who? Robin?"

"No. Guy." Marian did not try to hide the guilty expression on her face.

Djaq gave a shrug but stared under her eyelashes at Marian. This was the first time that Marian had asked about Guy. Perhaps it was the news, she thought to herself. They had intended to stop at the hideout first, but had met with several travelers who regaled them with tales of Sir Guy of Gisbourne and Vasey, and their new status as outlaws.

Djaq frowned at the absurdity of the question. "Who cares what happens to those two devils? After what Gisbourne did, he belongs in hell!" But something in Marian's face stopped her diatribe.

"What is it, Marian?"

Marian closed her eyes and lay back her head, and said nothing.

"It's those damnable dreams isn't it?"

Marian nodded. The dreams. They were more vivid now. Dreams of Robin, searching for Sir Guy. Sir Guy holding a bloody blade as Robin fell lifeless. And the curious, terrible expression on Sir Guy's face as he watched the life seep from Robin. Both men staring lifelessly into nothingness. Marian shuddered. She had seen it all before. Seen it through the desert haze in Acre, as Sir Guy stared at her dumbly, and at his blade jutting from her abdomen. The dream continued. She always arrived just one moment too late. Just one moment. A moment no longer than a child's cry, a moment with no end and no beginning.

Marian shivered and shook her head clear.

"Marian, Robin is perfectly safe."

Marian's mood brightened a little at the thought. Locksley was so close now. Surely she would know if Robin was in trouble. She wrapped herself in her best demeanor and pulled herself up to face Djaq.

"I'm sorry Djaq, really. You are absolutely right. It's hard to explain.. ." Her troubled eyes searched Djaq's clear countenance.

"Marian try to explain. Try."

Marian sighed and wrapped the woolen broadcloth closer. "Guy is like an angry animal right now, fighting for survival. As long as he thinks I am dead, he is capable of anything…."

Djaq laughed ruefully. "This is not news, Marian. You, of all people, should know that."

"I do. But I also know that he has a better nature."

Djaq's eyes flashed. She could scarcely believe that she was hearing this. Her lips compressed into a thin hard line. She said nothing.

"Djaq, I know I sound mad but I know Guy. I know the blackness inside him. But he has another side."

"Marian, what will it take for you to grow up? The man is a devil and he almost killed you. Now you are worried that he will kill Robin, and still you talk of his better nature?

Marian relaxed again and lay her head on the broadcloth cushion. How could she make Djaq understand? As long as Guy believed her dead, he would not hesitate to kill Robin?

Her eyes, always so expressive, were uncharacteristically guarded as she stared straight up at the lanolin stains on the woolen canvas roof. Somehow, they reminded her of clouds. She squeezed Djaq's hand and changed the subject.

"You knew we were betrothed, before he joined the Crusade?"

"Everyone knows that, Marian." Djaq returned abruptly, unwilling to be mollified.

Clouds. Marians thoughts turned back in time, to another day when she was so much younger. There had been clouds that day, too. Great dark clouds that flew across the sky as if fleeing an invisible pursuer. She remembered the scent of rain in the air. The scent of garden roses. Robin's strong hands as he pulled her through the meadow, flowers bent beneath the wind. The rain had no power then. She saw Robin's face as he pulled her to safety. Cascades of rain, drenching them both as they ran. Robin's strong frame visible as his linen shirt clung to his chest and arms. His eyes flashing for a brief second as they reached Knighton Hall and he fairly carried her to the warmth of the fire. And then his face when he told her…..

"Did you know that Robin released me, before he left?"

Djaq eyed Marian warily. "No, Robin does not discuss his innermost feelings, Marian."

Marian let her body relax. Her head bobbed along with the movement of the Wagon. She searched for words. Instead she stirred up memories.

"Robin was something of a local legend, even then. Anything he did, he naturally did better than anyone else. Before he had reached thirteen, he could outshoot any man in Nottinghamshire."

Marian threw a quick glance at Djaq. "Have you ever heard of William Marshall?

Djaq allowed that she had not.

"He is reputed the greatest Knight in England. He has served King Henry and taught King Richard, the only Knight never to be defeated in a tournament. But like most legends, not exactly true."

"What do you mean?"

Marian felt the words pour out. "It was because of Sir William that Robin left me for the Crusades. He happened to enter an Archery Tournament in Nottingham. Robin was just seventeen at the time and he was entered as well. I can still see Sir William's face when the tournament began, so sure of himself. The other archers were no competition, really. And then Robin took his turn. It was clear that Robin was gifted beyond belief with a bow. The locals all knew that but Sir William stood slackjawed when Robin hit the mark time after time. As the competition progressed, it came down to Robin and Sir William. Sir William went first. He asked that the targets be moved back fifty paces. Robin assented and Sir William took aim. His arrow struck dead center. He laughed and patted Robin's shoulder apologetically, sure that he had already won. And then it was Robins turn. Robin took dead aim and released his arrow. When the target was brought to the reviewing stand, the look of shock on Sir William's face was almost funny. Robin's arrow had split Sir William's down the middle. Robin, at seventeen, had beaten the greatest archer in England."

Marian sat up and peered into the darkened landscape. "I thought nothing of it at the time. A year passed and one day King Henry came to Nottingham, accompanied by Sir William. At that point Robin and I were betrothed and I thought nothing could take him from my side. We were together always, and I was sure that Robin loved me. And then the day came. Robin was teaching me the bow at the time. Usually, he was at my door early each morning. But on this particular day I waited and he did not appear. And so I went out to practice by myself. As mid-day approached, great dark clouds were gathered in the distance and I began to gather my things before the tempest hit. A light rain had already began to fall and as I turned to make my way back home, there he was. I completely forgot the rain when I saw the look on his face. Something was wrong and I asked him what it was. It was then that the storm hit and we made a run for Knighton Hall. The storm was quite upon us by then, and it all seemed so unreal. As we ran the rain and wind whipped around us, the world turned dark. But the look on Robin's face never changed. When we reached Knighton we were soaked through and we ran to the fire. It was then that he told me that Sir William had recommended him to King Henry, and that he had spent the morning electrifying the King with his skills. And that he was to go to the Holy Land with a small group of Nobles to prepare for the Third Crusade. He asked me if I would wait for him, and I said that I would."

"Wait, Marian", Djaq was confused. "Did you not just tell me that Robin released you?"

"And so he did. He asked me if I would wait, and when I said yes, he released me from our betrothal. It was only then that I told him I would never marry him if he was the last man on earth."

As she finished her story, Marian's tone had become quite matter of fact, as if relating a thing of no importance. Her eyes shown, proud and defiant.

"Marian you talk as if it meant nothing to you."

"I am not one of Robin's simpering women, begging for his love. He made his choice, and I made mine."

"And yet, here you are."

Marian's eyes flashed for a second as she took in Djaq's meaning. And then she dissolved into laughter at her own folly. "You're right. Here I am."

Djaq thought it best to turn the conversation. "How did you meet Robin?"

Marian seemed to consider the question. "I cannot remember NOT knowing Robin. But he never seemed to pay me any special attention, until I was perhaps thirteen. He and I spoke only rarely. And then suddenly, he began to appear at Knighton Hall, with Much at this side."

Marian pulled Djaq close. "I did not care for Robin at all then. I rather disliked him. He seemed so sure of himself. Much, even then, adored him! Robin and Much would sit by the fire and my father would fawn over them. Every night they were there, and it finally dawned on me that Robin was there for ME. I cannot say that I was pleased at first." Marian's face took on that guarded look again.

Djaq was not convinced. "Not pleased? Marian, you know that Robin is the only man you have ever loved. My god, you waited for the man for five years! Why can you not admit it? You were pleased at Robin's attentions. And you did wait."

Djaq had to suppress a laugh. The look on Marian's face was pure denial.

Marian furiously turned on her side, her back to Djaq. "That's all you know!" Marian seemed to consider the conversation was terminated but Djaq did not.

"Did you not remain unmarried while Robin was away?"

"Djaq, perhaps I am not the marrying kind."

Djaq did not bother to stifle her grin.

"You seemed to want marriage before Robin left, and must I point out the obvious? You are married to him now."

Marian offered no reply.

Djaq let it go, and lay on her back, a smile simmering beneath her placid exterior.

Marian thought she could see the shadowy outline of familiar lanscape framing Will's back, as he drove the wagon onward. Soon, they would be at Locksley. The thought made her anxious. Djaq was wrong. It was true, she had remained unmarried whilst Robin was gone. It was true that there had been suitors, more than a few. She HAD rejected them all, she reluctantly conceded. But there had been reasons.

Marian tossed and turned as the wagon drew nearer to Locksley. The moment she had dreamt of for three long months was almost there. Within an hour she would be reunited with Robin Hood. Her longing, more powerful than any thirst or hunger, would soon be assuaged. Her heart drummed inside her chest. She considered the situation, and the truth in Djaq's words hit home. It was true. She HAD waited for Robin when he was in the Holy Land! "And, god help me, I am waiting still. Is that not pathetic?" She thought to herself. "I pride myself on stength. I am my own self. And yet I have waited all these years for one man. I follow his example, I listen for his footsteps whenever I am alone. I pray for him and never for myself. I AM fooling myself. I am the very kind of woman that I despise. I AM weak."

"You are very wrong" Djaq's voice rose from behind her. Marian felt her cheeks go red. Had she been speaking aloud?

As if she could read Marian's mind, Djaq continued. "You babble in your sleep. And you are so wrong." Djaq turned to face Marian. "It takes a strength I do not think men have, to love completely. A man can love passionately, but then will turn and fight for his honor, or for his King, or for revenge, and in so doing tear apart his own world and that of his woman. Men call it bravery, and perhaps it is, perhaps it is something that sets women and men apart. But is it truly strength? Strength is the ability to hold on to what is most important, and never to let the world have it. Strong is what you are now, and what Robin was not when he left you for battle and glory. Was it strength when Robin returned and gave up everything, including you, once again? Men will call Robin a hero, and he is one, but there is another strength that is so much quieter. It gives no glory. You are Robin's touchstone. And he is yours"

Marian's eyes were luminous. "When he proposed, Robin said that together we are stronger".

"It is true, you belong together, he is your one and only love, Marian."

Marian grabbed Djaq's hand and looked into her eyes imploringly. "That is why Robin must not fight Sir Guy while he believes me dead, do you not see?"

"Marian do not worry, all will be well, we are almost home."

Marian composed herself and hugged Djaq.

"Actually, you never finished your story."

"There's nothing to tell. Robin continued to come, and each time he left Knighton I found myself waiting for the next day. Robin made me laugh, and I began to see another side of him. He had an easy way with everyone, and made people feel at ease." Marian stopped then and her face reddened, unsure if she said too much.

Djaq found herself engrossed in Marian's story and pushed just a little. "Was it then that you realized you loved him?"

Marian laughed and said almost to herself, "When I first realized that I loved him? Yes, perhaps. But the thing that truly made me love him was the way that he protected Much. Much was so gentle and different from the others. There were times when other boys would tease him or treat him cruelly…" Marian studied Djaq's face. Concern was written on it, and interest. She made her decision to tell all. "Do you want to know the day I knew I loved Robin?"

There was something in the way Marian said it, conspiratorially, and Djaq realized that she really wanted to know. "Go on, tell me" she nodded her head.

"It was May Day. I was with my father at Nottingham Castle for the maypole. He was Sheriff then, and it was a beautiful sunny day. People were dancing and singing and playing the fool in general. I found myself thinking of Robin, and suddenly there he was, with Much in tow. There was something in the way he looked at me. I felt myself drawn to him. We laughed and even ran around the maypole and from afar I saw my father smiling in approval. At that moment I realized that I was not seeking my father's approval, I really wanted to be with Robin."

Marian stopped then, clearly troubled. She could see it all as if it was yesterday. She did not wait for encouragement, but took a deep breath and continued. "There was a fight and Robin and I could see a young Norman Lord beating Much savagely. Before I could move, Robin had launched himself at the boy and knocked him to the ground. Robin mocked him and I shall never forget the words he said. 'Only the wicked take out their frustrations on those weaker than themselves.' The boy's face went red and he left. And despite myself, I knew then that I loved Robin. Because I loved what he stood for. Because when he was pushed he protected, and when the other boy was pushed, he turned to cruelty." Marian's voice trailed off sadly.. "That is why I love him. And not because he was an Earl's son, to whom my father was vassal."

"Is that why you did not care for Robin at first? Because he was the son of an Earl, and your father wished for the union?"

"That is part of it."

A thought suddenly occurred to Djaq. "How did you know the other boy "turned to cruelty" when he was pushed?"

Marian looked Djaq directly in the eye. "That's the other part, the other reason why I was reluctant to love Robin was because I once had an attachment to a much older boy, when I was very young. That boy was the Norman Lord who was humiliated by Robin."

Djaq's eyes were wide.

"I was only eight, Djaq. And the "boy" was already nearly a man. There was no relationship. But the boy happened to be Robin's worst enemy. I believed at the time that Robin's family had forced him to leave the country. That they had taken his estates and forced him into poverty. I held on to that anger for a long time."

"Marian, what are you telling me?"

"Do you not know already? The 'boy', the young Norman, was Sir Guy of Gisborne."

There was only the sound of the wagon and horses as Djaq absorbed what Marian had just told her. So many questions! So many answers. So this was why Marian seemed always to be convinced that Gisbourne had another side! And one question above all that Djaq had to ask. "Marian, does Robin know?"

"Is there anything to know? As I said, I was eight years old. Sir Guy's father had returned home a leper, and Sir Guy was cruelly treated by the other boys of Nottingham. There was already an antagonism between Sir Guy and Robin, who was perhaps eleven at the time. Sir Guy was perhaps eighteen when his father died and his estates were transferred to Robin's father, who was the vassal lord. From my point of view then, it was Robin's fault. I believed then, and I believe now, that had life not been so cruel to Sir Guy he would have been a far different person."

Djaq felt indignation. "Marian, how can you say that?"

Marian's faced was inscrutable. "I don't know. How odd that it is the decisions we make as children that stay with us forever."

"Marian, have you forgotten that it was Sir Guy who impaled you with his sword?"

Marian ignored Djaq's indignation. "I know. But you did not see his face when he did it. I did. I have never seen such sadness, such pain, in any man's face before."

"I have. You did not see Robin's face when he buried you."

The look on Marian's face made Djaq wish at once that she had not said it.

Just then, Djaq and Marian jumped as Will pulled aside the canvas. "Do you two want to sit here all night?"

The conversation had achieved its goal. Marian and Djaq looked around in shock to see that they had indeed arrived at Locksley Manor. They looked at one another and laughed.

Will tapped his foot and felt sure he would never understand women. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing Will, truly." Djaq hugged him and she and Marian stepped out of the wagon.

Marian's fears returned. Locksley manor looked unchanged. But the windows were lit by torches, and there seemed to be people in the great hall. Gisbourne's guard were nowhere to be seen. So it was true then. She followed Will and Djaq as they walked hand in hand and knocked on the door. She could barely swallow. Her heart thundered in her chest and she shook as she walked. How would he take it?

A chorus of voices ensued, and there was a muffling noise inside. Seconds seemed like hours. And suddenly the door opened and Thornton's face greeted the unsolicited visitors. His sleepy eyes grew wide as he recognized Will Scarlett, and the Saracen girl who had been part of Robin Hood's gang. "Will Scarlett and Djaq, is it? Come IN! He bellowed, his eyes red-rimmed. As the group moved inside the door, the light from his torch fell upon the third in their party. Thornton's mouth dropped open in disbelief as he beheld the face he knew so well and thought never to see again. He gasped, unable to speak.

Behind him another voice cried out in disbelief. "Will and Djaq?" Will, Djaq and Marian looked at one another as they recognized the voice immediately It was unmistakably Alan Adale. They heard the sound of steel and then Alan's face appeared. He pushed past Thornton and his face lit up as came face to face with Will, Djaq. And then he saw Marian. The color drained from his features as he stared in frank disbelief at the face of the woman that he had helped bury in the Holy Land. "Witchcraft!" He screamed and back away. His legs buckled and he sat down on the floor and looked up in wonder.

"Not witchcraft, Alan. It's me, Marian!"

Alan remained unconvinced. "But you're dead!"

Ever so gently, Marian knelt next to Alan and she put her hand on his shoulder. "No, Alan, I am no ghost. I was never dead, apparently. But I would have died, were it not for Djaq" Marian cooed soothingly as Will and Djaq moved to help Will to his feet.

Thornton led them to the great hall and they sat Alan down. A goblet of wine was produced and Alan downed it in one gulp. Emboldened by the wine of which this was most certainly not his first draught, he reached out and touched Marian's hair, and finding it solid he managed a weak smile. "I'm not tryin' to be funny, but you're alive!" Was all he could say.

Assured that Alan was coming round and would not die of fright, Marian turned her attention to the others in the room. There were only Thornton, Alan, and two servants. "Alan, where are the others?"

It was then that the horrible truth of the situation hit Alan and he remembered why he was at Locksley Manor. He looked at Thornton. Marian realized suddenly that Thornton's eyes were not red from lack of sleep, but from tears. The sense of dread that she had felt earlier returned with a vengeance. Thornton dismissed the other servants and they ran from the room, their heads bowed. With horror, Marian realized that they had been crying as well!

"Alan, where is Robin?" A horrible premonition, too horrible to be real, crawled out of Marian's mind.

Alan coughed and looked at Will. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.

Will and Djaq drew closer to Marian, their faces instantly tight.

"Alan. WHERE. IS. ROBIN?" Marian repeated again, fighting to keep her voice even. Her eyes darted about. She did not wait for an answer but turned to run up the stairs, to the Solar. Alan jumped to his feet and caught her in his hands. He turned her face toward his.

Marian began to shake. "Alan?"

Alan felt tears boiling from someplace down deep. He grabbed Marian and tried to say the words, but nothing came out.

Marian heard a cry that sounded for all the world like a wounded animal. She did not know from whence it came. She stood as still and silent as the ghost she had just been taken for. The world did a dance in her head.

"How, Alan?" The words were as cold as marble.

Alan gritted his teeth and tasted salty tears. "Guy of Gisbourne."

She knew the answer before he said it. The world began to spin. All that she remembered later was hands reaching for her, as she hit the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: reunion

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;  
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;  
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:  
The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost,  
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars,  
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves  
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,  
And slips into the bosom of the lake:  
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip  
Into my bosom and be lost in me.

...Alfred Lord Tennyson

Arms folded tight into the black mane of her Destrier, Marian rode with all the strength her body could command. The bracing wind had long since unbraided her hair, and her cape fluttered behind like the tail of a comet. Her injury throbbed for attention, but she did not notice. Her mind was filled with one objective and she would not stop nor give time to herself to gather her thoughts. She did not think or remember, but drove herself to her goal, to see one last time the face that fuelled her. Made her strong. Would sustain her in the days and years to come.

The wind swept past but dared not delay her. The cold melded her hands and the reins into one, and yet she did not slow. A face that would soon crumble into dust lay just out of reach and she must see that face now, before the changes wrought by... Marian cringed and would not allow that train of thought to continue.

She was dimly aware of each and every passing moment. The sound of voices beside her beseeching in vain for her to slow, intertwined with the sounds of the forest, called out to her in vain. There was another voice that rang deep within, in time with her heartbeat. A voice imbued with the spirit of England. A voice whose baritone timbre had wrung hope back into the hearts of an ancient people whose pride had almiost been lost forever. The quiet voice whispered above the din. "Together we are stronger". She fought off fresh tears and bent her body low onto the frame of her steed, her legs and arms pressed tightly onto its musculature. "I'm coming my love" her own voice whispered back.

She pressed her face into the hard crest of her mount and made herself one with him. The smell of his coat filled her frozen lungs, she felt his pulse pound through his hithers, and could hear the intake of air into giant lungs beneath her. From time to time the breathing of the beast grew laboured, and she reluctantly slowed each time until his breath came even, and then kicked him back to full gallop.

Marian felt a tug on her arm. "Here" Will yelled over the din of pounding hooves and pointed out a riverbank ahead. "We need to water the horses". Marian reluctantly tugged the reins and followed Will and the others to the river and they dismounted. Will, Djaq and Alan rode with Marian. Thornton, Thomas and a few stable boys followed in a wagon, but were by now far behind. The day was Christ Mass and the Great Kings Highway, gleaming in the sun under weight of the night's frost, beckoned with a promise of a few last moments alone with the man she loved.

As soon as Djaq had caught her breath, she hastened to Marian's side to ensure that the wound had not re-opened. Marian waved her off with an apologetic shrug. Whether or not her wound had re-opened, was of no consequence. She would not, could not, stop. She dared not look at the faces of her companions. She didn't need to look to know their faces were red from the cold, their noses wet. A cold was a dangerous thing in this time and age, and yet Marian knew she would never relent. It was their choice. If they wished to follow her then they must accept the consequences. It was by far the most selfish thing she had ever done in her life, and she knew she would never forgive herself if one of her companions, her friends, became ill. But she also knew that nothing and no-one could stop her. It seemed life was determined that either she or Robin must live it without the other. So be it, she thought grimly. But no power on earth would deny her the one thing that she asked in return. She wished only to say goodbye before the ravages of death subtracted the last remnants of Robin from this world. To see HIS face, while it still resembled the face of the man she loved.

Marian attempted to rebraid her hair as she waited as patiently as she could for man and horse to refresh. Her hands shook and her fingers seemed suddenly too clumsy as she tried without success to twist her locks into place. She tried again to do what she usually found so simple, but her hair fell as a jumbled mess down her back. Cool hands suddenly replaced her own and she looked up to see Djaq crouched over her. She expertly twisted Marian's hair into place and pinned it.

"You are tired, Marian." Djaq's voice was casual. But three months constant companionship were enough that Marian could detect layers of concern and worry in Djaq's voice, no matter how hard she tried to conceal it.

The winter sun shone through the branches of barren trees and laid their pattern on the glistening pond as the horses drank. Will went to his saddle bag and brought out some dried venison and passed it amongst the riders. "Judging by the sun, it's near mid-day. We are at least ten miles past Folkstone".

Djaq took a seat next to Marian and thrust some dried Venison into her hands. "Eat" she commanded and one look at Djaq's face was enough for Marian to take a bite and chew dutifully.

"I am quite well, thank you." Marian protested, between chews. Whether or not she was tired, or if she was in physical pain, Marian had no idea.

"You are tired, whether you think so or not. We all are."

Despite herself, Marian cast a guilty eye around. Will sat next to Djaq and ate silently. Alan sat with his back propped against an Oak, his eyes closed. They did look tired, each face pale and drawn. Luckily, the day was not half so chill as it might have been at this time of year, and the sun had already thawed the grasses enough that the horses grazed contentedly at the river bank.

Marian sighed. "Alright, half an hour, but no more," she agreed, not quite sure if she could keep her word.

" We are not far from Doncaster. We keep on it til York, it's the safest route. With all these travellers there is no danger of highwaymen. It will take a bit longer than the direct route, but.."

Marian cut him off. "We take the quickest route."

"Marian, that means leaving the King's Highway after we pass Doncaster, it's not safe."

"We take the quickest route."

"You look ill, Marian. You need rest." Will was half in mind to tie her up and wait for the wagon to arrive.

"I am fine, Will. At least I am not tired. Please." Marian's eyes begged, but her face was hard and Will knew it would do no good to argue.

Marian had slept soundly the night she learned of Robin's fate. She knew the very second that she heard, that she would rush to his side and so she had gone to bed with a dread. She felt hysteria beating its way to the fore, but she had thus far managed to keep herself calm, except for the dreadful episode of fainting when she had heard the news. She reddened slightly at the thought. She had prided herself all her life on her strength of character and her self-sufficiency. When Robin had left her to fight for the King, she had battled her own battles with herself, and won, for the most part. She had left her embroidery and honed her skill with sword and staff, instead. Surely she could manage to rein in the pain and loss that threatened to consume her, and find a way to sleep, she thought to herself. She had collapsed onto Robin's bed and prepared for the visions of him to come, for the hard suppressed pain that challenged her every waking thought, to take its rightful place. Instead, she fell instantly asleep, and had risen early the next morning, before the sunrise to set out for Fountain's Abbey. Thornton had prepared the wagon before retiring, and was already up and loading provisions. A fresh team of horses had been hitched up, and the wagon stood ready. The night before, Will had guessed that she intended to ride ahead, and had made it clear that he would ride with her.

Marian had dressed quickly and checked from the window, the full moon shown clearly on the Wagon and team, as well as four fresh horses. She descended to the Great Hall and found Djaq and Alan had joined their party, and no amount of protest would stop them. And so they had taken a quick breakfast and set out for Fountains. Marian led the way at breakneck speed, and those on horseback separated quickly from the slower moving wagon. There was no danger really. The roads were filled with throngs of travellers and religious ... at Christ Masse, and robberies were nearly impossible. To further ensure their safety, Marian had assumed her Nightwatchman guise, and Djaq had cut her hair, much to Will's chagrin, and dressed in some clothes belonging to a stable-boy. To any casual observer, the party was four capable men, heavily armed.

Will tried to finish his food, but could not. He spat out the last mouthful he could stomach. "We are already nearly halfway there, Marian. I am begging you, please slow down. Won't you wait for the wagon?"

Marian shook her head no. She did not trust herself to speak more. She swallowed her tears and made her face as brave as she could. Will despite his red-rimmed eyes, was as stoic as ever. She would not be the wink link. She would be as strong as Will. She would be the Nightwatchman, be a man, if that is what it took. She did feel a different person when wearing these clothes. She wondered briefly what it would be like to be a man, really. To be free to do as one wished. Never to know the pain of losing the man you loved to his own need for revenge. Her heart caught and fell heavy. It must be so empowering to truly be a man.

Marian felt eyes on her, and withdrew from her reverie to catch Djaq's gaze. Djaq's eyes darted away quickly, but Marian thought she saw a knowing look touch her face.

When half an hour had passed. Marian said nothing, but got to her feet and mounted her horse. The others followed suit. The party set forth once more. Marian ignored the throbbing in her abdomen as she again molded herself to her horses back, and rode as fast as her steed could carry her.

...

The cell door was not locked, the jailor was Vasey's own man, bought and paid for. There was a secret exit, if needed, not fifty paces from the cell block. It was all for appearance sake. All for the King, when he did come, and for the rabble. The cell that the two men shared was dark. No one could see the heavy sheepskin that covered their bunks, or taste the food direct from the kitchens. But the smell was hard to mistake.

"Do you know there is something to be said for these cells, Gisbourne. It is certainly much warmer down here than up in that drafty tower, and cooler in summer too. When things are returned to normal I may just think about making some apartments down here."

"I am sure that King Richard will be most happy to comply when he arrives in Nottingham." was Sir Guy's terse response.

"You know you are the most tedious person I have ever encountered. After all my work, you fall for a Leper. Of course, I will do all I can to protect you when the King demands your head. A clue, No."

Sir Guy of Gisbourne relaxed on his bunk, his legs casually dangling from the end. He appeared not to have a care in the world. But beneath his closed eyelids, a world of nightmares lurked. He had become so accustomed to them that he no longer even feared them. They just were. The pain, however, was always there. All the pain in the world coalesced into the sweet face of Marian of Knighton. His nightmares would indeed seem not to be nightmares to anyone at all, had they been capable of seeing them. They consisted entirely and simply of every sweet moment of his life. And they were all Marian. In them, she rode her horse, or laughed sweetly and without cruelty at his social gaffes. Or she chastised him in the way that she often did, that was clearly designed to let him know that she thought him capable of so much more.

It was his betrayal of her faith, of his final act of barbarism again her, and against himself, that made all the delightful past reminisces into such a very palpable nightmare. A flower is only a flower until one realizes that it is gone forever. And then its loss becomes something so much more.

It was then that Vasey's self absorption, and Sir Guy's self hatred were interrupted by the sounds of muffled voices. In the dark recess of the hallway facing their cell, a Jailor was leading a few peasants toward them.

Vasey finished his chicken legs quickly and threw the mess under a linen. "Oh goodie, Well time for the act."

He then began the little scene he repeated for the rabble when some unsuspecting Jailor decided to make a few shilling on the side by conducting a tour of the cells holding Vasey and Gisbourne. Usually, it was some riffraff come to spit at them and harangue them for a few minutes until his or her time was up.

"Oh help me, Lord forgive me for my sins against good King Richard! God forgive me!" He screamed and threw himself against the bars. Vasey attacked his little scene with relish, and by now had become quite good at it. He quite enjoyed the drama of it. And the thought of what he would do to those traitorous Jailors when things were returned to normal, was even more intoxicating.

However, as the Jailor grew near, it was plain to see that the hands of the three peasants were bound. And behind them, a second Jailor held his sword. Realizing that he had no need to continue his farce, he sat down immediately and returned to his chicken. He eyed the three bound men disinterestedly. All wore rough clothing and were clearly peasants. There was an older man, unshaven, and two younger men, boys really. The older man and one of the younger men protested violently as they were shoved into the cell adjoining their own, and quite bereft of creature comforts. The youngest said nothing, but looked around with frightened eyes.

Vasey directed his attention to the Jailor. "I see we're to have neighbours?"

The Jailor locked the cell and pocketed the keys. "Bunch of scum, caught pick-pocketing on the Great Kings Road. Tomorrow they'll be carryin' their right hands in a pouch, that's what."

He turned and marched back down the hall. The oldest of the peasants threw himself the cell door and screamed for the departing Jailor. "It's not true, not a word! We 'ad some bad luck, that's all, we never touched a purse that wasn't our own, I'm swearin' it!"

Sir Guy ignored them, but Vasey, of course, could not resist. "Innocent, are you? Tsk Tsk."

Facetiousness was beyond the old man. "Aye, Master, that's it! We're innocent! Wait til our friend, Robin Hood 'ears about this! He'll spring us, he will."

Vasey was captivated. "Oh, you're friends of Robin Hood are you?"

The two other younger men joined in now. The youngest with the terrified eyes spoke. "We do not know Robin Hood, but we know Will Scarlett well enough, and he'll 'ave Robin spring us when he hears about us!"

Vasey could not resist the prospect of seeing their faces when they learned the truth. "You do know that Robin Hood is dead?"

The look of the men's faces was delicious. Vasey could not stifle a chuckle at the look of horror.

The young man spoke up. "How do you know Robin Hood is dead?"

"Because I watched him die, dear boy."

Sir Guy did not like the direction this conversation was headed, and tried his best to ignore the wailing of the three men, and they chattered to one another.

Vasey turned his attention back once again to his chicken.

"It's not true," the old man stated emphatically. "Don't believe a word of it".

"But what if it is?" The youngest man with the fearful face whispered loudly to the others.

"Who will tell Will Scarlett? And Lady Marian!" the youngest man whispered urgently and loudly.

Vasey had tired of the game. He turned to the three men and hissed. "Will you lot shut up? Lady Marian is dead as well, you scumbags. She died months ago in the Holy Land"

"Aha!" cried the old man and hurled himself against the bars that separated the two cells. "You're a lair, you are! Caught ya!" The other men looked at one another knowingly. The youngest seemed relieved. "He's right, you are a liar. We met up with Lady Marian and Will Scarlett on the way to Locksley not two days ago!"

Sir Guy jumped to his feet before he was even aware of it. He rushed to the bars in a flash and before the youngest man could move he found Sir Guy's hands encircling his throat in a powerful grip. Sir Guy's face was enough to strike fear in the man, and he struggled violently in vain to extricate himself from his iron grasp. The look of something more than ferocity on Sir Guy's face chilled the room as he levelled his gaze at the poor man still struggling. "How would you know Lady Marian?" His heart pumped adrenaline through his body and his hand constricted around the helpless man's throat. He released his grip a bit and repeated to the terrorized peasant. "How would you know Lady Marian?".

The other two men succeeded in releasing Sir Guy's grip and the youngest man fell heaving to the ground, gasping for air. The other young man spoke. "It's true, he is my brother, and we were both stableboys to Lady Marian before Knighton was burned. We know Lady Marian well, and she is alive. We saw her not two days ago headed for Locksley with Will Scarlett."

"You are mistaken." The words were barely audible. "You must be". He said wondering. Hope, the cruellest master, stirred once more and Sir Guy felt his heart ready to take flight. It had to be a mistake, but for one second, if he could for one second, BELIEVE that Marian was still alive! He looked at the three shaking men doubtfully, the cold look suddenly gone from his face, revealing an extraordinary beauty that lay behind the mask.

The old man looked accusingly at Sir Guy. "It's true, my lord. We met 'em not two days ago, on the Great North Road. They told us that they was returnin' from the 'Oly Land, and that Lady Marian had been frightful injured."

Vasey gasped and stared at Sir Guy. "Lady Marian ALIVE?" Vasey was, for once, struck dumbfounded. Before he could think of anything to say Sir Guy was on his feet and sailing through the Cell door. He did not look back. Vasey ran after him, ignoring the surprised looks on the other men's faces.

"What are you going to do, Gisbourne?"

"I do not know." And it was true. He did not know. But he did know one thing. If Marian was alive, he must see it for himself. If there was the slightest chance those three addled peasants were telling the truth, he had to know it for himself. Nothing else mattered.

"But what of the King?"

"To hell with the King."

Vasey felt himself losing control and he did not like it. He screamed at the figure of Sir Guy as he disappeared into the darkness. "And what if she is alive, Gisbourne? Do you expect she will give you a hug and tickle? Are you so deluded to think she will greet you with open arms and thank you for killing Robin Hood? A clue. NO!" He screamed the words but there was no audience. Sir Guy was long gone. Vasey scurried after.

Sir Guy of Gisbourne strode toward whatever fate had in store for him. For the first time in a very long time, he felt hope. He felt alive.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Christ Masse

The monks were chanting in the rectory and their voices echoed throughout Fountains Abbey. Candles and lamps were lit everywhere, with holly and pine boughs hung, no doubt by Friar Tuck.

In the infirmary, Robin drank down the last gulp of hot broth and winced. His entire body ached with every movement, no matter how miniscule.

The monks were lighting torches in preparation for the Christ masse that would take place at midnight. They seemed jovial enough as they worked. Occasionally, one of them would cast a furtive glance his way, curious about the legendary outlaw in their midst.

"So you're awake? How do you feel, Robin?"

Not without pain, Robin turned his head toward the familiar voice. It was Friar Tuck.

Robin winced again as he put his palms against the bed and pushed himself up. Friar Tuck's perpetual smile almost disappeared. He caught Robin's shoulder in a vain attempt to stop him from sitting up. But Robin was not someone to be easily thwarted. Ignoring the kindly monk's attempts, he sat up and shoved his feet over the edge of the bed. The pain was there, but manageable. Robin grinned to see that finally he had succeeded in erasing the smile from Friar Tuck's face.

"What do you think you are doing?" Friar Tuck cried as he watched Robin extend his legs to the floor.

"Standing up."

Tuck threw his considerable weight between Robin and the Floor. "I do not think that is wise!"

"Much, Little John!" He called out and held his ground as Much and Little John rushed to Robin's bedside.

Robin, to the amazement of all, gingerly tested out his feet. He pressed his left foot to the floor. Every muscle was sore, but there was no pain. He exhaled a sigh of relief and tentatively lowered his right foot, pain shot up his leg. Much and Little John uttered a few choice epithets and lent him their arms. Robin shook off their assistance and gingerly applied weight to his left again and stood up. The room spun a little but he pushed a shocked Friar tuck aside and took a small step, slowly, carefully keeping his weight to the left side. The others looked on with total amazement. Robin grinned at the defeated monk.

"You have a will of Iron, young Robin." Friar Tuck conceded in genuine admiration. "I would never have believed any man could sit up, much less walk, so quickly after a fall such as yours".

"A head of iron, more like" Much tried very hard not to be impressed. He had suffered enough shocks to the system to last a lifetime in the past few days. "Robin. REALLY. How much am I to endure? Could you not, for ONCE, do as you are told?"

Little John turned his head to hide his smile. A clearly aggrieved Much could be quite entertaining.

For his part, Robin grinned broadly, pleased with himself. But he sat back down obediently and allowed his legs to be gently lifted onto the bed.

"Sorry, Lads. No harm done!" Robin turned on the charm for his mates and smiled the kind of smile that had been missing for a very long time.

Much allowed himself to be mollified as he watched Robin return to his bed. Robin was full of surprises, as always.

Robin was surprised himself, but for his own particular reasons. For a very long time he had been unable to think or feel anything but hate. That was over. It was as if the shock of the fall had knocked some sense into him. The pain, both physical and mental, was still there. But there was something else. He could not define it but it was there. Looking at Much and Little John, he saw clearly now just how much his mourning had cost them. Both of his mates had finally been able to rest and get some decent food at the monastery, and yet still they looked thin and tired. The emotional gamut that had been his lot, had obviously been theirs too. Robin felt shamed. How selfish had he been the last few months? Marian's death had not just happened to HIM. They had all loved her. Love her, he corrected himself. Even now, it was impossible to think of Marian as merely a memory, no matter how precious. He could still feel her presence, so much so that his body ached for her touch. That much he would never let go. But he knew that the steps he took this strange Christmas meant something.

He motioned for Little John and Much to come near, and placed an arm around each of his friends. "Lads, can you forgive me for what I've put you lot through the last few months?"

The monks, except for Friar Tuck, began to take their leave, for the chants.

Little John sought to suppress the emotion that pushed through him. He had almost given up hope that Robin would ever be the same man. Relief washed through him, and he put his hand on Robin's shoulder.

"Robin. I've always thought my lot in life was about as bad as a man could endure. I lost my family, and lived to see my own son raised by another man. I thought that my lot in life gave me leave to hate the world. You've given up your titles, and lands and money and lived with us in the Forest and never complained. You never considered yourself unlucky, as I did. And then with what happened in Acre... Aye, I think you know what it is to lose, Robin. I wouldn't want to change places with ya, although I never met a better man. In short, Robin. You, I love. And you have nothin' to apologize for, lad."

Robin cuffed Little John with his free arm and turned his attention to Much. Much, his head bowed, kept his eyes fixed to the floor and did not look up.

"Much?"

Much remained motionless for a few moments longer, still staring at some invisible spot on the floor. Robin grew a bit worried. He felt sure that the misadventures of the past few days had angered Much past all sense. The strain on their friendship was palpable, and Robin wondered if there was anything he COULD do to get back into Much's good graces.

"Much, can you find it in your heart to forgive me, old friend?"

And then Much looked up. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks.

"Forgive you?" Confusion clouded his face.

Robin mistook his meaning. "I know I have behaved recklessly. .."

"Robin!" Much interjected. His face was red with excitement. "I've known you since I was ten years old, Robin. You know what happened to me before I became your manservant. It was your father who found me and brought me to Locksley Manor…"

"Much, this isn't necessary" Robin interrupted, looking a bit embarrassed. He sensed a speech coming on.

"Yes, Robin, it is necessary. For once, let me finish!" Much ignored his friend's obvious embarrassment and continued. "Forgive me, but even considering our different stations, I have to say it. You have been more of a brother to me than I could have ever hoped for. From the moment I came to your service, I never knew hunger, or fear. You gave me the best from your table. You, Robin of Locksley, the son of an Earl, treated me with more respect than any man had ever done. At times, it's true, you may not have been perfect. But you have been the best master, the best friend, that any man could ever have. I love you like my own brother, Robin. So please don't ask me for forgiveness because.. because of what happened... You took it hard. But I was there in the Holy Land. I know how much you loved her. There is nothing to forgive."

Robin was not a man for such effusions, but he was touched by his friend's outburst, more than he would ever show. He embraced his friend and did not lose his smile even when Marian's name was mentioned.

"Then we leave in a few days for Locksley."

"As soon as you are well enough, Aye" Little John said with finality. The tone in his voice made it clear that they would not be departing one minute before.

Friar Tuck beamed good naturedly. "Today is a day of feasting and celebration my friends. And we have more than enough cause to celebrate." Sure enough, the smell of roasting pork and lamb and pasties came wafting from the Kitchens and Robin's stomach growled.

The good monk, never immune to the smell of a plump roast, immediately recognized the glint in Robin's eye and corrected him. "Today will be the feasting, for all except for you, Robin. I'm afraid it will be broth for a few days more."

The look of disappointment on Robin's face was so priceless that the men erupted in laughter. Robin, always a man who loved to laugh, could not help but laugh with them, even if it was at his expense. And as he laughed, felt the glimmerings of an old feeling that had abandoned him so long ago. He could scarcely recognize it.. His hand wandered almost of its own accord to the ring that lay forever against his chest, and curled around it. Marian's ring. It suddenly occurred to Robin that he could think of her again. There was pain, he knew that kind of pain never really goes away. But there was something else. He could remember her, and feel the pleasure those memories gave. He felt sure that he could actually savor those memories, and the pain, while still there, still harrowing, would be endurable now. And so, amidst the revelry, and in the company of the good monks, and the friends he loved, Robin of the Hood allowed himself to remember the only woman he would ever truly love.

Sure enough, Marian's voice, released from the prison of his grief, now echoed loudly. "You keep fighting for me, Robin. You promise me, you'll keep fighting." Marian's last words filled his mind and heart. He could hear her voice, as she lay dying in the sand of Acre, imploring him to continue the fight for England. Her face, so beautiful, seemed so real in his mind. He could see every pore of her skin. He closed his eyes tight and held on to this vision for as long as he could. After a few moments, the vision receded back into the deepest recess of his heart, where it would stay. Robin opened his eyes and returned to the here and now. The feeling was sublime, and Robin was eager to be by himself.

The scent of meats and pasties permeated the air and Robin found his pretext. "Men, go and feast, I'm fine here."

Friar Tuck needed very little prodding, "Come lads, feasting awaits", he announced to his new comrades and began to herd the others from the room. Much and Little John looked doubtful.

Much held his ground by Robin's side and looked at him with worried eyes, "Robin, are you sure?"

Friar Tuck winked at Robin and used him stomach like a battering ram. "Come lads, Robin needs rest." And he ushered the two men from the room. "We'll bring back some broth and perhaps a touch of mutton," he called to Robin as he closed the door of the infirmary behind.

Robin was delighted to find himself completely alone in the infirmary for the first time. He grasped Marian's ring in his hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed her ring. "I, Robin of Locksley, take thee Marian…" he whispered to the ring and pressed it against his chest. "I vow to you my love, and to god in heaven, that I will keep my promise to you. I know I have failed you. I have held onto hate and forgotten my vows to you, Marian. But that is over, my love. I vow to you here and now that Robin Hood is not dead and never will be until the King is restored and Englishmen are free, be they Saxon or Norman. If a man calls himself an Englishman, then he will be my friend and I will never again fail England. And I will never again fail you, my love."

Robin lay still and quiet . He let the sheepskin and the fire and his lost love warm him. He would face his future, as uncertain as it was. His heart lurched at the thought of a future without HER. Yes, it would be hard. But Robin Hood lived on… He nodded to sleep full of hope.

….

Sir Guy strode toward the stables. Behind him he could hear Vasey racing to catch up, screaming every epithet known to man. As he moved along, he passed guards and squires, knights and stable hands. None made any effort to stop him, although they clearly recognized him. He passed his squire and without stopping instructed him to saddle up his horse.

As he waited for the boy to ready his mount, Sir Guy noticed that his saddlebag was fairly stuffed. He decided to cull the bag and began examining the contents. The bag was full of useless things he had picked up here and there, most of it useless junk. With a self derisive snort, he commenced to throw out the useless items. When he had reached the bottom he found a wad of paper and unfolded it. To his surprise, inside the nondescript little scrap of paper he found the amethyst wedding ring that he had selected for Marian. That day was a particularly bad memory and Sir Guy grimaced inwardly at his own naiveté and tossed it to the hay strewn ground.

He paced back and forth muttering to himself and at length the boy appeared leading his horse. "You took your sweet time about it" he growled at the lad and grabbed the reins. As he laced up his saddlebag he could hear Vasey searching for him in the distance. He mounted his horse and sat. Vasey's plaintive voice echoed closer. If he did not leave soon there would be yet another confrontation with Vasey, he knew. And yet he sat on unmoving on his horse and stared vacantly. At length, he sighed to himself and dismounted. He ran to the spot where he had thrown the ring and began to search. Soon, to his amazement, he found himself on hands and knees sifting through the hay, until at last he spied the ring gleaming under a wheelbarrow. He picked it up and carefully, lovingly, folded it back into the paper and placed it in his doublet.

"Looking for a needle?"

Sir Guy spun round. Sir Edmund, a very odd look in his face, sat on his destrier. Sir Guy's heart sank. Behind Sir Edmund a score of his retinue approached on horseback. A blind man could see that the other horsemen were Knights, and no mere Knights. Each of the horsemen wore deep black, from Hauberk to shield. The intensity of color reflected almost prism like in the rays of sunset behind them. There was no mistaking it. They were Black Knights, come to fortify Nottingham Castle for the return of King Richard, no doubt.

It was then that Vasey caught up. In his mad rush, he almost collided with Sir Guy. Vasey opened his mouth to begin a new tirade, and then he saw Sir Edmund and the Black Knights circled around the stable. Weak with relief, he laughed aloud. "Sir Edmund, thank god! Perhaps you will help me to convince Gisbourne here that it is in his best interest to remain in his cell, like a good little boy." He smiled triumphantly at Sir Guy.

Sir Edmund eyed both men and shrugged his shoulders, apparently completely nonchalant. "And why would I do that, Vasey?"

Vasey was undeterred. "Sir Edmund, we have just learned that Lady Marian of Knighton and Will Scarlett, two of Robin Hood's henchmen, are currently in Nottinghamshire."

Sir Edmund did not seem the least perturbed. "Perhaps they are on a pilgrimage?"

The Black Knights behind him looked at one another knowingly and guffawed loudly.

Despite themselves, both Vasey and Sir Guy stared at one another in mutual confusion. Their confusion grew as Sir Edmund and his men dismounted and handed the reins of their horses to their squires. The men were actually JOVIAL, there was no mistaking it. Vasey did not hide his irritation. "Have you gone daft, man? Perhaps the lot of them can take a holiday with the King, when he arrives? Won't it be fun when Lady Marian and the rest of Robin's gang of misfits tell the King that Robin Hood is dead? Perhaps there will be a lovely festival to celebrate our hangings?" Vasey's voice rose hysterically as he spoke, and by the time he finished he was practically screaming. And still Sir Edmund and his retinue of Black Knights merely smiled at one another as if in on some fantastic joke.

"Vasey, you seem quite excited."

"Have you taken leave of your senses? We cannot have Sir Guy traipsing about the countryside as free as a bird."

Sir Edmund seemed to find this amusing. "Quite right. Perhaps he should take a cloak, it is quite frosty".

Vasey's head spun. "By god, you and your men are drunk. If you thin.."

"Shut up" Sir Guy's voice suddenly cut him off. Vasey spun around indignantly but the look on Sir Guy's face silenced him. Sir Guy stared hard at Sir Edmund, completely ignoring Vasey. "What has happened?" he asked, his gaze fixed.

…..

Sir Edmund and his men were famished, and they seemed intent on emptying the larder of Nottingham Castle. Sir Edmund made it clear that he would not deliver his news until he and his men had eaten. For his part, Sir Guy tapped his foot impatiently watching and waiting. Every second that passed was a second in purgatory. He could not decide which was worse, Sir Edmund's slow and deliberate way with a meal, or Vasey's smug face as he watched his former henchman squirm.

Finally, Sir Edmund had sated his appetite. He threw down his serviette and dismissed his men. He kicked back from the table and nursed his wine and surveyed the two anxious men.

Sir Guy could stomach no more. "If you have finished your meal, Sir Edmund, pray tell us your news so that I may be on my way."

Sir Edmund took another sip of his wine. "Patience, Gisbourne, patience."

Sir Guy stood up and buckled his sword. "As you say, Sir Edmund. Perhaps you'll be patient enough to inform me of your news when I have returned." Fuming, he turned to depart.

Sir Edmund chuckled and turned his attention to Vasey. "My congratulations on your table, Vasey, that was truly a splendid meal"

Vasey's beady eyes glittered. "My table is your table, my Lord, literally."

Sir Edmund lifted his voice so that Sir Guy who was already at the door could not help but hear. "Actually, no. The table is yours, Vasey."

The statement had its effect, and Sir Guy stopped in his tracks. He turned as Sir Edmund withdrew a charter from his hauberk and opened it. "By declaration of King John, you, Sir Vasey, have been restored to your position as Sheriff of Nottingham, and all charges against you and Sir Guy of Gisbourne have been expunged."

Sir Guy crossed the room and dropped to his seat, as Sir Edmund threw the documents to the table.

Vasey picked up the documents. "Did you say, King John, Sir Edmund?"

"I did. King Richard has been captured by Duke Leopold of Austria and is held for ransom."

Sir Guy felt his stomach turn. "But surely the ransom will be paid…"

Sir Edmund took another sip of his wine and replied with relish, "My dear Sir Guy, the ransom is for the sum of 150,000 marks."

Vasey laughed vigorously but without mirth. "Even Eleanor of Aquitaine cannot hope to make that ransom."

"She cannot, that is true. Prince John, however, HAS managed to raise 80,000 marks."

Sir Guy looked at Sir Edmund obliquely. "Eighty thousand marks to ensure that King Richard is NEVER released."

"Exactly."

…..

Fountains Abbey seemed full of activity. It was midnight but the abbey seemed to glow. Every window seemed to hold a candle. The four travelers could hear the chants of the monks inside. There was no one to be seen outside. Will, Djaq and Allan jumped from their horses and helped lift Marian from her saddle. She cried out in pain despite herself. They carried her to a bench outside the gates and Djaq inspected the wound. She took a vial of willow bark from her saddle and put some to Marian's lips.

"Marian, chew this for the pain. Your wound is very nearly re-opened."

Marian obediently chewed the medicine. She felt the pain by now but they were here. They had arrived. Her heart pounded with a mixture of relief and dread. Within minutes she would be faced with the sight of something she could never fully prepare herself to see. She squeezed Djaq's hand.

Will cautioned the small party: "The Abbot here is a puppet of Prince John. We cannot be sure of our reception. It's best to keep your identities secret until we have seen Much and Little John." And then he ran to the huge oaken doors and pulled the bellcord. whilst Alan and Djaq attended to Marian.

Presently, the great heavy doors slowly opened a crack and a young monk greeted them. Behind him, the warmth and light and the smell of roast pork and holly greeted the four exhausted travelers and was almost overwhelming.

The monk, a callow youth, peered at the stranger, and the three other men behind him.

"God's blessing, travelers. Do you and your men seek shelter?"

"We are here for the body of Robin Hood."

The monk looked at the strangers doubtfully for a moment and then opened the door fully.

"Come in and warm yourselves." he beckoned to the men .

Will collected the others and they helped Marian into the warmth of the vestibule.

"And may I know who has come for the body?" the Monk asked after he had seated the tired group.

"Alan Adale."

""Wait here, My Lords." The good young monk's face took on a slightly worried expression and he hurried away.

"The Abbot here is a puppet of Prince John. We cannot be sure of our reception. It's best to keep your identities secret until we have seen Much and Little John", Alan whispered through clenched teeth as they waited for the monk to return.

….

Robin awoke to find Much and Little John calling his name excitedly.

"Robin, some men are here asking to see your body." Little John whispered. "The monks do not recognize the men. One of the men says he is Alan Adale. But it could be a trap".

Robin wiped the sleep from his eyes. "I don't see the problem."

Much's face was white. "The problem is, Robin, that it's four men on HORSEBACK. No wagon for your..er.. body. Suspicious, if you ask me."

Robin pulled his bow and some arrows from beneath his bedding. "Right. Let them in. But arm yourselves, just in case."

Little John nodded to the monk at the door, who departed to collect the strangers.

…..

The monk lead the four strangers through the labyrinth of halls until they stood outside the closed doors of the infirmary.

Djaq and Alan had for all intents carried Marian who was weakening rapidly. They sat her down on the banquette outside the doors, and Djaq opened her doublet and grimly noted that a touch of blood stained her shirt.

"Marian, your wound is re-opening. Rest here for a moment," Djaq commanded as she applied some salve from her pack, and pressed some linen against her wound.

Marian did not argue. She felt the full force of the pain now. Her heart pounded as she surveyed her friends and the closed door that held the body of Robin.

She nodded. "I will sit here. Just do it."

Djaq stood up and took Will's hand in her own. They embraced Marian and held one another. Will felt his own heart beating out of control. He squeezed Djaq's hand as Alan knocked on the door and pushed it open. The room was ablaze with candles.

Alan stood inside the door followed by Will and Djaq. Just inches outside the door Marian held her breath. The next few minutes would be the hardest of her life, she was sure.

Inside the room Robin sat on the bed, surrounded by his friends. Friar Tuck had collected a score of monks to help in case this was indeed, a trap. Half the monks stood at the perimeter with herding canes held at the ready. The rest formed a demi- circle around Robin.

Alan led Djaq and Will and they stopped just inside the door. Friar Tuck stood closest by and scrutinized the newcomers. He recognized at once the face of Alan Adale and called out to Little John who stood watch over Robin. "It IS Alan Adale!"

Little John relaxed and released his grip on his weapon, and the monks that surrounded Robin moved a few steps back.

"Well of course it's me!" Alan bellowed as he caught sight of Little John and Much. His eyes twinkled. "And I've brought friends."

Behind him Will and Djaq moved nervously into view. They peered into the little group of monks and they squeezed hands as they finally made out Little John and Much, and behind their dear friends what they assumed to be the body of Robin, their fallen leader. When Will and Djaq appeared behind Alan, Little John and Much stopped short and stared, unsure if their eyes deceived them.

"Will and Djaq?" Much cried out in disbelief, still not sure if this was his imagination.

Will held his beloved's hand and together they moved to embrace their comrades.

Robin, still hidden from view as he attempted to sit up, could not believe his ears. Will and Djaq? Here? His rest had only magnified the soreness in his body, and he pushed himself up with effort. Sure enough, there stood Will and Djaq embracing Little John and Much.

He dropped his feet to the floor and muttered an oath as pain coursed through his right foot.

Will and Djaq blinked with unbelieving eyes as Robin teetered on his good leg before them.. "Oh my god" Will said, unable to hide the shock in his voice. For their part, Djaq and Alan merely watched open-mouthed as Robin Hood grinned at them.

Marian was momentarily forgotten as she heard the din from inside the infirmary. She stood up slowly, removed her hood, and filed into the room. Two rows of Monks lined the room and Robin's coffin was apparently laid on the other side, near the fire. There in the middle stood her friends, with their backs to the door. It was then she realized that the room was perfectly quiet. Will, Djaq and Alan stood as statues around Robin's body. She squared her shoulders and made her way forward. She removed her hauberk and let it drop to the floor, and prepared herself.

The monks were the first to notice her. Death in the infirmary was nothing unusual, even the death of a legend. But a woman was another matter. The monks looked at one another in frank amazement and gaped openly at Marian as she crept toward the body of her love.

From the corner of his eye, Much saw the look of surprise on the faces of the monks, and turned to see Marian of Knighton inches behind him. "Marian!" he cried out in disbelief. He half slumped against Robin's cot.

At that precise moment, Djaq and Will had quite forgotten Marian. They watched frozen with shock as Robin of Locksley struggled to stand up. He turned to face his friends. "Robin!" they gasped in unison as they stared at Robin of Locksley facing them with a sly grin on his face.

Robin could barely contain his joy. It was indeed Will and Djaq, their faces wide in astonishment. He realized at once that of course Alan had told them that he was dead! He took a step toward them. "It's me, mates, I'm not..." he began .. He stopped. His world stopped. "Marian" he heard Much cry out and his eyes trained immediately on the faces behind Alan, Djaq and Will. Sure enough, Little John and Much were calling HER name… "Marian?" Robin's heart began to drum loudly. Had they brought her body with them?

Marian's reply was cut short as well. Djaq and Will turned when they heard Much call her name. Djaq saw the beginnings of a blood stain on her chemise and ran to support her… Marian was clearly weak. Marian looked at her uncomprehendingly. She had clearly heard Robin's voice. "What is happening?" she asked her voice almost floated. The room was spinning.

Robin heard someone asking plaintively "What's happening?" from the other side of the infirmary. He froze in place. He knew that voice. That voice was etched into his soul. His heart stopped. It could not be. He strained to see from whence the voice came, but the room was now crammed full and he could tell nothing.

Little John took one look at Much's face and turned to see what the daft lad was staring at. Then he too saw Marian. He glanced back again at Robin who had lost his grin, his face a study in confusion, searching to see past the throng of monks. Only Friar Tuck, who was a bystander, saw clearly what was happening. Robin and the wren. The strange girl had to be Marian! It was so clear!

Will sprinted to Marian's side and threw her a supporting arm. Friar Tuck called out to Much and Little John to move aside and as they did, Robin of Locksley and Marian of Knighton stood ten paces apart, face to face.

Marian looked at Robin's face and felt her reality move. Tears began to cloud her vision and she leaned against Will… "I think I have gone mad, Will"

Djaq squeezed her hand. "No, Marian, he is alive. We all see him, not just you, " she whispered gently.

Robin stood uncomprehendingly and stared. There, STANDING between Will and Djaq, was his Marian. He saw her face and heard her voice. Her hair wild, her face devoid of color, but it was Marian. He stood stock still and dared not blink. It had to be a dream. His eyes blazing, he took a faltering step toward this vision that could not be.

It HAD to be some side effect of his fever. He stopped and forced himself to blink, but when he opened his eyes again, there she stood, still. He began to shake. Slowly, awkwardly, he moved forward toward the beautiful girl with the shining eyes... She reached for him and weakly whispered his name. "Robin" she said, her voice barely above a whisper and yet as loud as lightening in the suddenly still and quiet room.

Robin did not feel his fractured leg. He felt no pain at all. What he felt could never be described and he surely would never try.

Marian held her breath as she saw her Robin Hood moving toward her as if in a dream. She tasted her own salty tears and realized she was crying. She shook off Will and Djaq, and took a deep breath. She heard a hoarse voice croak "Robin" and realized that it was her own.

His face was like the sun, alight and ablaze. His eyes bore deep into her own. As did hers in return. She half fell forward and reached for him just as he came within her grasp. Her fingers delicately pressed against his cheek.. Solid Flesh! And then she saw his lips move and his shaking hands as they searched her face and return.

"Marian", he whispered. It sounded like a prayer. Frantically, arms sought arms, lips sought lips, and breast sought breast. Hearts beat in unison, a deep, powerful rhythm that spoke the truth. This was real, and no dream.

Much, Little John and Alan collapsed together in a heap of tears and joy. Friar Tuck for his part, a smile from ear to ear, came to stand with them. Robin's men put their arms about him too. Somehow, at that exact moment, they all knew that Friar Tuck was one of them, and no longer a monk of Fountain's Abbey.

There were no dry eyes as Robin's men and the astonished gang of kindly monks stood in awed witness to the reunion of two lost souls that christmas night.

As for Robin and Marian, there were only two people in the world at that moment. Two people who should be dead, but were not. Two people who clung to one another for a very long time.

Neither Robin nor Marian could tell how long they held one another. It seemed like forever. But after a very long while they were astonished to find themselves alone together on Robin's bed of sheepskin, in front of the roaring fire. The monks had discretely left, and their friends were nowhere to be seen. They did not question. At this moment, in this room, Robin and Marian cared nothing at all about the questions. They were not interested in the answers. This moment in time was about belief.


End file.
